


horizon aurora

by wizardcity



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alternate Universe - Pacific Rim Fusion, HQBB2014, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-01
Updated: 2014-10-01
Packaged: 2018-02-19 11:35:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 21,995
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2386871
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wizardcity/pseuds/wizardcity
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There was once a boy with no heart, crown on his head and there was another boy, one with hair like sunshine and stars in his eyes.</p><p>(One day, they learn to fight monsters together.) — Pacific Rim AU, HQBB.</p>
            </blockquote>





	horizon aurora

He's tall and he's a jerk. The first part is perfectly clear, considering almost anyone who plays this sport is taller than him, but the second word Hinata uses isn't that clear; Kageyama Tobio gives off the "vibe" of being a jerk (whatever that means) and Hinata isn't blind enough to miss the small nuances in how Kageyama interacts with his team (or lack thereof). Hinata has never gotten a single A in his lifetime, but he can pick up that something is certainly wrong with Kageyama Tobio.

Maybe it’s in his terrifying presence that swamps Hinata, the overwhelming talent dripping from every pore, the poise and effortless grace he possesses as he launches a service ace over the practice net. It pisses Hinata off, that’s for sure, so he decides to focus his thoughts on the ball in front of him. From the corner of his eye, he can see Tsukishima slowly sizing up the supposed “King of the Court” with a disinterested expression that Hinata’s seen all too often. Hinata’s never particularly liked Tsukishima one way or another, but his height and shrewdness is nothing to scoff about; there’s a reason why he was named team captain. Hinata closes his eyes and takes a few deep breaths until the whistle finally blows. Tsukishima rolls his shoulders as he walks over to shake the other captain’s hand and obviously, the captain is Kageyama Tobio. Hinata can sense the tension rolling off both Tsukishima and Kageyama as they awkwardly lock hands and shake robotically, as if good sportsmanship is a foreign concept.

Neither of them say good luck and it’s understandable. After all, it’s the championship match of the Interhigh and this is Hinata’s last chance to play high school volleyball. The realization finally hits him; that this is his last match regardless of what happens, that this match in a large stadium in the capital of a small eastern country in the middle of summer will be his last. It’s a scary realization that there’s something out there other than the sport he fell in love with for almost half of his life. He shakes his head a bit and turns his attention to lining up with the rest of his team to bow. Tsukishima stands next to him and they bow. Hinata tilts his head a bit when he sees Tsukishima's mouth moving.

"He's tough," Tsukishima says, terse as ever. His sports glasses slide down his nose a little and he pushes it up in a comforting manner, "But he's not that tough; once you pinpoint his weak point he'll go down pretty quickly." The look on Tsukishima's face is one of utmost contempt and hatred and it's at times like this that Hinata is thankful that they’re on the same team.

Hinata hums a wordless response; it’s like a bird call, cheery and high-pitched and blindingly happy. Tsukishima doesn’t even understand how he put up with this for three years but he sighs, resigned.

“It’s finally here, isn’t it?” Hinata says, head held high, chest puffed out. He’s trying to make himself appear larger; the same age-old idea of height haunts Hinata even now. Tsukishima feels a bit bad about those endless taunts over the years. He frowns a little, his lips pouting a bit as he contemplates what to say next.

Tsukishima thinks that he should pat Hinata on the shoulder. His hands waver a little, but he stuffs his hands down into his pocket and waits for Hinata to move ahead. It’s in character, after all, Hinata moving ahead while Tsukishima stays back. Now is not the time to change. He takes his place near the net and turns his head towards Hinata and finds himself once again perplexed.

The first word that pops into his head is: enigma, bold and clear — it’s always been that word, because Hinata has, and always will be a complete mystery to Tsukishima Kei. There’s a reason they’ve never been friends; Hinata is too intense, too terrifying to behold, too hot and full of fire and spirit and it’s all too much to handle, the red hot excitement that burns itself on the back of Tsukishima’s eyelids and it’s a bit like staring at the sun, except Hinata is infinitely brighter. Hinata is like fireworks on a summer day: hot and sultry and overwhelmingly oppressive in the sense that he's so intense, eyes zealous and unyielding, the very prospect of competition making him lick his lips, like a wild beast. The same look is in Hinata's eyes now and Tsukishima turns his attention on the other end of the court to shake the unsettling feeling clenching his chest.

The whistle blows, the alarms ring and the building explodes.

The last two parts of that sentence never registered themselves in Hinata’s mind: his eyes were instead focused hungrily on the perfect arc of the serve set in motion by Kageyama. He blinks. The ball falls behind him, in that gray area between the libero and middle blocker. It’s the perfect serve that no one notices. Hinata’s ringing ears faintly register screams and there’s dust rising all around him and he sees something red and he swears it’s not blood, it can’t be blood. He feels someone tugging on his elbow and it’s Tsukishima. His glasses are smeared with dust and disintegrating insulation material, but behind all the filth, there are eyes that are scared.

“What happened?” Hinata manages to choke out among all the dust, turning to run towards the exit.

Tsukishima didn’t know.

Hundreds of others were fleeing the stands and Tsukishima notices that there are bodies awkwardly laid out on the court, arms twisted and legs maimed, like some kind of twisted circus act. The entire northern corner of the gym has been blown out, electrical wiring and insulation pipes burrowing out of the wall like maggots in a horror movie. Hinata can smell the faint smell of the ocean riding on the breeze entering the gym.

“What happened?” Hinata asks yet again and Tsukishima breaks out of his reverie. His eyes turn back towards Hinata.

“A kaiju attacked the harbor! It's already made it this far inland! It probably threw part of a building and it hit the gym!" Another man yells and the news ripples through the crowd, infusing it with a sense of terrified urgency. The doors open and people quickly streamed out, amid a flurry of conversations — "How'd it make it this far without a Jaeger? Weren't they supposed to save us?" "How the hell are we supposed to escape to somewhere safe? There aren't even any goddamn underground bunkers ever since the government pooled all its money into building a Jaeger that was made using Japanese engineering and technology! How the hell is it supposed to help us now when it's all the way in Hokkaido to get its fucking repairs done after that last attack in Vladivostok!" "Oh god, I hope my sister is safe at school."

Natsu. His sister was in a hotel, too sick to come to his championship game. His mother had offered to come, but Hinata had turned down the offer; after all, his sister's health was more important than a volleyball game. He remembered bending down in the early dawn light, burrowing his head into her orange curls and planting a small kiss onto her nose before heading out to catch the team bus to the stadium. That seemed like a long time ago.

Hinata’s fingers passed over his pockets until he realized his phone was sitting safe and sound in the locker room. He needed to find a phone and call Natsu. The fear and urgency within the crowd disappeared as they found themselves in a silent and deserted street in Tokyo. Cars were abandoned in the road like the cicada husks Hinata used to collect with Natsu and the familiar sound of car alarms echoed along with the wind. The city shouldn’t be this silent. People hurriedly abandoned the crowd, phones slammed against ears, a temporary relief from the alarms and the wind and the overwhelming silence of it all. Hinata turned back to find Tsukishima, but he wasn’t there; Hinata saw his blond head tower over the crowd for a fleeting moment, weaving dexterously between crying women and referees, silent and seemingly stoic, lips pursed in a failing attempt to keep the expletives that fall out of mouth with no warning, no grace. Hinata turns back: he knows he’s not needed —- Tsukishima could fight his own battles, on his own, alone like always. Hinata was not one to break their endless and silent cycle.

There’s a roar and a rumble and that sounds almost poetic in Hinata’s mind and then there’s screaming — the ground breaks and Hinata doesn’t understand — he swears it was silent — and then there’s more roaring except it’s coming closer and it’s not even roaring, it’s screeching and it hurts his ears, like fingernails scratching against chalkboards and — suddenly he’s running and his lungs hurt; there is fire trapped between his heart and throat and there are entire universes hidden behind his eyes and it’s like Hinata is caught in a tug-of-war between the planets and stars but yet his feet are pounding into the ground.

Hinata’s eyes focus back on the concrete below his feet and he can feel the rubber on the bottom of his shoes eroding away. I need to find a phone. Find a phone. Call Natsu. He doesn’t know what to do after, but that’s OK. He sees a corner and he turns and there’s another turn, but Hinata doesn’t realize that he’s just going in circles, back to the same gym.

(If he weren’t running from a five thousand ton monster, he would have contemplated how this was the universe’s way of telling him never to leave volleyball.)

He runs back towards the sound of the rumbling and the roaring and that’s when he comes face to face with it. He’s two blocks down from it; it meaning the giant cross between an alligator and a crab, that’s the only comparison he can come up with for this monster that looks like it came from the stars, not from a rift in the ocean. It had a angular head tucked within a shell encasing, a dangerous warhead that had already detonated, its claws shining in the late morning sunlight.

Out of the corner of his eyes, he spots a phone booth sign four blocks down. It's cracked and part of the P had crumbled off but the phone booth was still sitting pristine and untouched, a small and safe cocoon amidst a maelstrom of destruction and death. Four blocks in the other direction is the beast, the thing, Kaiju — his mind finally stumbles upon the right word and the Kaiju turns its attention to Hinata and roars.

It's not even a roar, it's a screech and whatever sanity Hinata had left quickly left him, as he felt his head reel and his heart race and he didn't understand how the Kaiju made his knees turn to jelly but it did — and then the sinking feeling in his chest swamped him completely. Run, run. The Kaiju didn't notice him, it turned and Hinata closed his eyes and just kept sprinting — he heard crunching and screaming and — there was a baby crying and then there wasn't — and more screaming but Hinata kept running and running, closing his eyes and trying to fool himself into thinking that this was a sprinting drill. There was more screaming and an explosion left a hollow noise in his ears — Oh, thank god, it's not me — and then Hinata's throat burns; he's disgusted that he ever would think that but he pushes down feelings of self-hate and continues to run and run and run. Four blocks has never seemed so long. He feels sick. His ankle hurts and he can't feel his stomach.

The phone booth he’s standing in is unusually quiet.

Hinata doesn't hear the familiar rumbles following him down the road - he can't hear anything except the best of his own heart. If Tsukishima were here, he would probably roll his eyes and mutter something about how Hinata sounded like he was quoting a overly dramatic line from an old movie. Tsukishima.

The red receiver was right there but Hinata's hand was shoved somewhere deep down in his pocket. He never expected to make it this far. The phone hanging from the dock was better in the abstract; it was a goal, a fixed point in space, something that Hinata could see clearly. But now he didn't know what to do. Did he dare pick up the phone and only hear silence on the other end? Or would it be worse to pick up the phone to hear Natsu's small, quavering voice hiccup as she sat waiting to die? What about if Natsu was safe and she heard the very last words of Hinata Shouyou right before he was crushed in the phone booth? His hands didn't move one inch. The rumbling was getting closer and the glass around him shook. His fingers curled into a fist and he shook his head.

He picked up the receiver and dialed the number. His breathing stopped and his toes curled.  The ringer buzzed a few times and there was a click. Hinata's stomach somehow dropped even lower. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath.

"Hello?" The familiar hum of Natsu's shrill voice burst into the static of the receiver.

"Natsu! Are you OK? This is Hinata!" Hinata yelled into the receiver, knuckles turning white from his tight grip. His chest feels tight

"Hinata! Are you OK? Where are you?" Her voice shakes a little and it cuts off for a few seconds.

“I’m in a phone booth but I don’t know where to go — there aren’t any shelters and the Kaiju is four blocks down and —” Hinata’s voice cracks and he loses his breath.

“I just wanted to say — “

The line goes dead. All Hinata feels is the beating of his own heart.

The Kaiju comes closer and closer, roaring, acid spewing out of its mouth and Hinata’s knees tremble and it’s something straight out of the movies where the hero always shows up in time, except this is the real world and Hinata is bound to die in this tiny little glass box with nothing but a plastic telephone receiver in his hand. It moves closer; three blocks, two blocks, one block away now and Hinata can feel the roar reverberate in his ears, hears it bounce around the glass booth, amplifying his own fear.

The kaiju is about one hundred feet away and that’s when Hinata starts to cry. **  
**

But then a giant drops down from the heavens, digging its heels into the concrete beneath and Hinata looks up and is in awe.

It’s a Jaeger with orange and black stripes, profile sleek and powerful, strong arms embellished with plasma cannons and a giant charged electric staff held between two giant hands that looked like knives. Hinata recognized this Jaeger; it was the Jaeger nicknamed the Small Giant, a prototype of one of the earlier Jaegers that had been deemed too small for current battle but yet a boy as small as Hinata had taken that and used it to his advantage. It was one of the most famous Jaegers in battle now, considering its agility and nimbleness in land - based battle. Hinata had watched hundreds of documentaries with Natsu about all the Jaegers but this particular one stood out to him the most.

Hinata watched with stars in his eyes as the Small Giant weaved in and out of the Kaiju’s legs, pinpointing plasma cannon shots to the underbelly, quickly evading the appendages and calculatively administering electric shocks near the neck and face. It was all so bloody; blue Kaiju blood spilled everywhere, searing into the concrete as the Small Giant absolutely ripped the Kaiju into bits and pieces, tearing out its arms and legs systematically and then delivering the final blow with a stake to the heart.

Hinata was in awe.

(He wanted to do that one day too, just like the Small Giant.)

.

.

.

He made a promise that day that one day, he would.

★

It’s cold and his feet are dangling off a wall over a hundred meters tall. There is no fear in his heart, not anymore, at least. He feels his knees shake a little bit and his head feels a bit empty; it’s always been this way, the thrum of machinery ingrained into his bones, the monotonous ringing of hammers weaving themselves into a melody that is even more bitter than the coldness enveloping him. Hinata doesn’t need to focus on anything other than the gray, bleak backdrop of the Siberian Anti-Kaiju Wall; after all, it’s the one constant in his life. This wall had raised him, had fed him, had changed him, all in the course of one short year. Hinata had come from a city of disaster and had been thrown back onto a wall that had given him nothing but an old jumpsuit with stains that looked like dried blood and a weekly wage that was barely enough to cover the cost of milk, a dozen eggs and a loaf of bread.

The wall had nothing to offer. It was too cold, and when the sun came out, it was too bright and the snow burned itself onto the back of Hinata’s eyelids like fireworks did and other times, it was too frightening, frostbitten men falling through girders, no safety harness on, a look of shock as they fell to their death. Coldness and death: that’s all the wall meant to Hinata. And yet, this wall was supposed to save the world. Hinata turned his attention back to his toes. He was standing on the tallest part of the wall, where the bitter wind burned his ears and left him with red cheeks that almost outshined his hair. There was nothing up here other than some steel rods that poked up out of the ground like snakes poised, waiting to attack. A few sparks made its way up to the top of the wall, illuminating the top of the wall in an almost cheery manner. A lone whistle signalled the end of the morning work shift and Hinata turned his eyes to the gray horizon.

The summers here were so cold. The ocean was relentless, pounding and foaming, leaving a chilling misty breeze almost all year round. Combined with the fact that the sun only came out for a few hours each day, Hinata hadn’t seen sunlight for a long time; his skin had faded a bit from its usual light summer tan and he wished to breathe in that rich, heavy summer air. He wanted to hear the annoying hum of cicadas as he fell asleep on the floor next to Natsu. He wanted to do so many things with Natsu before the world had come to a standstill and he was left with nothing but a grainy photograph of her printed on flimsy copy paper. Hinata turned his back to the ocean and pushed his hand deep in his pocket till his fingers grazed the familiar crinkle of the picture.

It was time to leave. Hinata attached himself into the harness, careful to check to see if it was broken and carefully slid all the way down the pole. It was always exhilarating to see the thousands of steel girders and supports flash by his eyes, the sparks just ephemeral sparks in the dreary sky, the sudden breeze always leaving him with ever-present chapped lips. Hinata never felt as happy as he did now, except for the time when he played volleyball. He closed his eyes and remembered the wind ruffling his hair as he jumped, as he soared and his throat clenched a little. He really missed it. But there was no point to sit and wallow; the world was ending and Hinata needed to keep his family safe. Natsu. That was the only reason he had stuck on this wall for so long. Unlike many of the other wayward workers here, he had purpose, a reason for being here. No matter how shitty the conditions were, Hinata was happy that Natsu was being fed and a grainy picture of her was enough to keep the homesickness away, at least for now.

Hinata’s feet planted themselves firmly and he weaved through the crowd to find the familiar silver head bobbing above the swarm of greasy heads and hard hats. Hinata squeezed himself between two particularly burly men until he came up next to Aone.

“What took you so long?” Aone asks somewhat indifferently. His eyes soften just a little bit and Hinata smiles.

“Just went to the top to take a look at the view! Imagine what it would be like living on top of the wall!” Hinata says as he shuffles forward in the line leading to the mess hall. A few thickset men with unshaved beards and cigarettes propped in their mouths start complaining about Hinata cutting in line. Aone shifts his body and turns his gaze to them and they quickly turn their heads away. Aone turns back and frowns a little bit more.

“I honestly don’t see why I have to do this for you all the time. You could just come earlier.” Hinata grins a little more while breathing onto his hands to keep them warm.

“It’s not my fault you always look like you’re about to commit a crime. Plus, you’re my friend,” Hinata says and Aone blinks a bit, the lines on his forehead softening. Aone sometimes wonders how someone like Hinata exists in a place so bleak. Hinata manages to always catch Aone off guard, always manages to surprise Aone with his honest words that always make him feel a little lightheaded. He’s never had a friend like Hinata before.

Aone doesn’t know how to respond so he changes the subject.

“Honestly, I don’t know why you go for the jobs at the top of the wall. Mark my words, Hinata, you’re going to die up there while watching your seaside ocean view,” Aone’s frown returns and Hinata grins in that way that always confuses Aone.

“I’ve explained this to you before,” Hinata says somewhat exasperatedly, but his eyes were still twinkling, “First of all, there’s better pay but lower worker satisfaction.” Hinata rolls his eyes as he counts off his fingers.

“By lower worker satisfaction, you mean that half of them are dead, don’t you?” Aone glares nowhere particular and accidentally makes eye contact with another wall worker.  He grimaces inwardly; his mother had always told him to smile to strangers and to apologize to them when he accidentally glared at them. He had been used to shifty glances and chins turned down whenever others walked next to him and he was sad to see that still applied here. The world was ending and yet Aone couldn’t smile or apologize.

“That’s true, but that means I’ll always be able to find an extra shift of the wall to take! You know I need the money for Natsu and my mom.” Hinata’s face is red and chapped with wind and for a moment, Aone thinks he’s like an elf, small and so full of life.  Aone couldn’t help but raise his lips in a smile whenever he heard Hinata talk about his mother and younger sister. He waited for Hinata to continue talking; Aone was never one for words whereas Hinata was overflowing with them, bursting to the seam with warmth and honesty and emotion. Sometimes it was all too much for Aone to take in. Whenever he talked to Hinata, it was a bit like looking at a star, too bright and too pure and filled with too many other elements to name.

“Plus, you know I want to look at the ocean,” Hinata concludes and his eyes suddenly become stormy and deep. Aone has to look away from Hinata for a second, only a second, just to catch his breath. Hinata always does this: he becomes too intense too quickly and Aone doesn’t know whether to look away or stare and shiver.

The ocean. For some reason, Hinata was always absorbed in the view of the ocean from the top of the wall. Before Hinata stood a tall, tall wall of nothing but black soot and steel girders and grayness, and Hinata had taken the drabness and shoved it away. Instead, he had found something to look forward to. Aone never understood what was so intriguing about the ocean view from the top of the wall. Frankly, his knees would shake a bit whenever he would go up there with Hinata.

Aone nodded once and thought about the day he had first met Hinata. He remembered the time he had clambered up to the top of the wall and met the enigma that was Hinata Shouyou.

**.**

 

**.**

 

**.**

Aone faintly remembered there being two deaths three hours into the first work shift the day he met Hinata. Someone had rushed by him and murmured something about a “youngster” signing up for the top on his first day. Aone had worked on the wall long enough to see first-timers climb up the wall, taking on more than they could ever handle. He always would go to the top to try to talk them out of it, each and every time. Most times, they wouldn’t listen and then a few days later, Aone would walk by the shoddy medical clinic and see them cold and motionless on a stretcher and he would feel his heart stop a little. Aone remembered being called the Iron Wall when he played volleyball back in middle school but on the Anti-Kaiju Wall, even his stalwart heart wavered a bit.

He had figured it would have been the same with Hinata. Aone ran through his lines once again. _It’s really not the best decision for you to be at the top on your first day. The top of the wall is the hardest work, mainly because of the coldness. It’s not good for you to suddenly put your body under such stress._  But when he reached the top, Aone realized it was something far different. Hinata was staring out at the ocean instead of working his hands to the bone. The cold wind nipped at Aone’s ears and he turned his chin down to keep the warmth from escaping.

“You know, on your first day, it’s not recommended for you to be up here,” Aone said, just barely heard above the wind. The boy turned his head and smiled, orange hair jarring against the gray and white backdrop.

“But the view’s great, isn’t it? It’s just like you’re sitting in a Jaeger!” His eyes brighten a bit when he says the word Kaiju and Aone’s stomach sinks a little lower. This person is just like him, was just like him. Aone’s throat clenches a bit and he keeps pressing on, maintaining eye contact with him.

“I know there’s a lot better pay up here, but your body can’t take this level of cold. You should start out on the lower levels of the walls,” Aone asked again, walking a little closer.

Hinata turns sharply and glares at Aone for a few moments. He seemed to be pondering something important; his eyebrows were scrunched and his forehead wrinkled a bit. Aone stayed silent.

“You look familiar.” He says simply, bouncing up and down on his heels, “Did you play volleyball?”

Volleyball. Aone hadn’t heard that word in such a long time. It had only been two years but that seemed like a lifetime ago. He remembered all the blood, sweat and tears that he had poured into the sport. He remembered the gentle claps of reassurance on his back when he couldn’t  block the  ball and he remembered the sting on his hands from high-fiving his teammates too many times. Words meant a lot to someone as silent as Aone, but the word volleyball meant the most.

“Yeah, I did. Datekou Technical High,” Aone answers simply.

“Oh, I remember you! You were the pillar of the Iron Wall, weren’t you?” The boy chirps, taking his hands out of his pockets to rub them together.

Aone blinks, surprised. He never expected someone to remember him.

“Well, I’m from Karasuno! Home of the flightless crows! I’m Hinata,” Hinata smiles and turns all the way around to fully engage in conversation with Aone.

“You made it to the national finals, right?” Aone asked before he realized that it was a touchy question, clear from the crestfallen look on Hinata’s face. He winced inwardly at his callousness. That had been the day that Japan had finally been attacked by a Kaiju, and to add salt to the wound, it was also the same city where the finals were held.

“Sorry if that question offended you,” Aone apologized, his eyes lowering.

“That’s not a problem at all, honestly. Lots of people have asked me if I feel bad about not playing my final match, so you’re not the first. At least I’m still alive, right?” Hinata says this in a rather cheery tone, but Aone sees the sadness in his eyes, the slight slump of his shoulders. “Anyways, I’m staying up at the top of the wall until I can get into the Jaeger Academy. I’ve got to get used to the view, don’t you think?” Hinata’s shoulders jump up at the word “Jaeger” and Aone’s stomach drops a little lower.

“Well, I hope we can be friends, at least. I would have never believed someone all the way from Japan would be on the same wall as me! Combined with the fact that they had played volleyball is incredible, don’t you think?” Hinata’s voice rambles on and on, like an endless stream that hops and skims over rocks.

“Me too,” Aone says simply. His original plan failed because he never planned to meet someone as puzzling as Hinata Shouyou on the top of the wall. Aone never expected for someone so full of hope and dreams to be channeling all their sweat and tears into building a wall so far from home. He never expected someone so happy and driven to come from a city that was still recovering from a kaiju attack.

Hinata takes one hand out of his pocket and shoves it in front of Aone. Aone carefully grasps Hinata’s hand and shakes it once while nodding. Hinata’s hand was surprisingly warm, he notes.

“No matter what anyone says, I am going to get into the Jaeger Academy and become a Ranger,” Hinata says this with such terrifying intensity, the stars and storm swirling in his eyes. Aone has never felt such pressure in such a long time, not since he abandoned volleyball. Looking into Hinata’s eyes was like looking at a younger version of Aone, the Aone who was fearless and stalwart and whose goal had been to pilot a Jaeger. But yet, here he was, defeated and clinging to a wall after dropping out of the Jaeger Academy halfway through. He had always hated himself for quitting but there was no way he could go back now.

But now, there was someone in front of him who carried his same spirit. There was someone who had those passionate, fiery eyes, that intense drive and focus, the exact type of person that Aone Takonobu could never become. It just was never meant to be.

“I’m going to get into a Jaeger, just like the Small Giant,” Hinata clarified again and Aone smiled, now firmly shaking Hinata’s hand.

“Well, I guess I can help.”

“How so?”

“I got accepted into the Jaeger Academy but dropped out halfway through,” Aone stumbles across the words as if they’re sharp stones in a river. He lowers his gaze to avoid meeting Hinata’s eyes.

“That’s incredible!”

Aone looks up and Hinata is smiling and it’s a smile like the sun.

He smiles back and Aone feels a bit like the moon, absorbing and reflecting the light from a sun he didn’t deserve.

.

 

.

 

.

Hinata elbowed him in the side while pointing up to the battered television hung in the corner of the mess hall. Aone blinked out of his reverie.

AUSTRALIA THREE TEAM JAEGER DROP TO DESTROY THE BREACH FAILS. ONE RANGER DEAD. JAEGER PROGRAM HEAVILY QUESTIONED.

Aone forgets to breathe and out of the corner of his eye, he sees Hinata’s shoulders slump. A crowd of sweaty and smelly workers form around the television and someone increases the volume. Everyone is silent, breathing hushed, cigarettes stamped out, eyes scrolling through the stream of white letters marching across the grainy television screen. There’s a picture of a stern looking man with spiky hair on the television now, mouth set firm, piercing eyes glaring into the camera. _Kindaichi  Yuutarou. 10 drops, 10 kills, one of the highest on record. Kageyama Tobio and  Kindaichi Yuutarou piloted Horizon Aurora._ In harsh red letters under his picture were the words: _‘KILLED IN ACTION.’_

A tired-looking woman came on the screen, her hair frazzled and dry, but her eyes were bright and alert. She cleared her throat and Aone felt the crowd hold their breath. Aone’s throat felt as dry as cardboard.

“The third mission to seal the Breach in the past four years of the Kaiju War has once again failed; even the most elite of Rangers could complete the mission. Kindaichi Yuutarou and Kageyama Tobio were the head runners in their Jaeger Horizon Aurora while Co-Pilots Oikawa Tooru and Iwaizumi Hajime, alongside Co-Pilots Kaname Moniwa and Kenji Futakuchi as backup for this particular mission.” A picture of each Ranger shows up and Hinata immediately grabbed Aone’s shoulder.

“I know the first Ranger! I was supposed to play against him in finals! He was kind of a jerk.”

“The three team drop happened just off the shore of Sydney, with Horizon Aurora carrying the nuclear payload. As you’ve heard before, the Breach is what the Kaiju travel through,” the woman says, as she flips through her papers, “From what our sources have gathered and from what the Pan Pacific Defence Corps has let us know, Kageyama Tobio and Kindaichi Yuutarou’s Jaeger immediately went ahead as soon as they were dropped, which was not according to plan.”

A video shows up on the screen: three infrared sensored figures are on the left side and the blue hazy region on the right marks the Breach. As soon as the video begins, Horizon Aurora, at the back of the formation, begins to move forward, quickly slicing through the water. The other two Jaegers stay back but then decide a few moments later to follow afterwards.

“Soon after Horizon Aurora moved ahead, not according to the mission orders, a Category III Kaiju was detected in the breach. As Horizon Aurora had moved ahead, there was no backup or additional support when the Kaiju made its way to the Jaeger. Because it had a nuclear payload strapped onto its back, offensive combat was heavily limited due to weight restrictions. While the other two Jaegers were trailing behind, the Kaiju mercilessly attacked Horizon Aurora and rendered the right arm and right leg useless. Neural connection with Kindaichi was lost slowly thereafter. It is believed that Kindaichi died during this short five minute period of time, as part of the Conn Pod was destroyed.”

A grainy phone picture of the Jaeger being loaded onto helicopters in the Sydney Bay Area appeared, the arm and leg mangled into nothing but a tangle of wires.

“Just as the Kaiju was about to attack once again, Rangers Oikawa and Iwaizumi killed the Kaiju using a combination of their wits and close range weaponry. LOCCENT deemed the mission ‘impossible under current conditions’ and withdrew all three Jaegers. As of now, no new information from the Pan Pacific Defence Corp have been released. We will update you with more information as it becomes available.”

The emergency broadcast concludes and an ad for kaiju bone powder medicine quickly takes its place.

The crowd stands in silence for only a few seconds until they disperse and file into line again; they have no need for illusory heroes in giant robot suits. They were here to build a giant wall, but only, only as a last resort. Aone turned his head to look at Hinata. The line shuffles forward. Aone pulled out his meal ticket and asked for a carton of milk and two pieces of toast. Hinata ordered something a bit more luxurious — a large bottle of mineral water and a ham sandwich.

The mess hall was too loud for either of them — too much cigarette smoke and beer and raucous laughter — so they always opted to sit outside near the landing dock. Hinata made himself comfortable on the ground as Aone stood, lips pursed and forehead creased.

“Are you sure you really want to do that, Hinata?” Aone says this so softly that for a minute he thinks Hinata can’t hear him. “Do you really want to go out there and risk dying?” Aone’s hands shake a little bit and the milk sloshes in its carton. He knew what Hinata would go through if he got accepted to the Jaeger Academy; after all, he had once been the same; unbridled youth and optimism dedicating his life to join the PPDC. “Do you want to live being responsible for hundreds of thousands of lives? What about your sister?”

Hinata’s eyes faded a little and Aone knew he had crossed a line. Whenever Hinata had talked about becoming a Ranger, deep down inside, Aone felt a little scared. Hinata was one of his closest friends and he didn’t want him walking blindly down a road to his own death.

There was never silence for this long. Hinata had always been there to break it with his smile.

“Aone, I’ll be fine. You don’t have to worry about me anymore,” Hinata stands up and walks in front of Aone, “I want to go. I know that it’ll be tough but there are people that I want to protect. Especially you and my sister.” Hinata smiles and shakes Aone’s hand and it’s just like the first time on top of the wall except Hinata’s hands are calloused this time, reformed blisters and hard fingertips speaking to Aone in a way that words could never accomplish.

Aone remembers all those countless nights spent under the stars, forcing numbers and equations into Hinata’s head until dusk turned to dawn. Aone hardly ever noticed how the time flew by during these cramming sessions with Hinata until his eyes burned at the sudden brightness of the early morning. Hinata would rummage through his beaten bag for a small, worn notebook and would keenly take notes while Aone talked.

Aone was never one for talking but when he was around Hinata, he felt a bit more free and open, so he would talk on and on about the Jaeger Academy and the tests and the training. Sometimes, he would feel a little sad about leaving but sometimes he was glad he left. He would never have met Hinata if he had stayed. Some nights, Aone never talked about the Jaeger Academy. He would talk about simple things: the way the sun looked as it glinted off the wall, how hot summers were back home, how he felt when he had a particularly good meal. Other nights he would talk about darker things: how sad he felt each time he would try to help a youngster at the top of the wall, how empty he felt before dropping out of the Academy, how defeated he was when he was disqualified in the Interhigh Quarterfinals.

He talked and talked and talked, hundreds of thousands of words marched out of his mouth in single file during those late night talks. And Hinata listened, not saying a word. He would merely scribble a few words whenever Aone paused to catch his breath. Aone would stop after a while and they would lie in comfortable silence. Hinata would hand him a bruised apple he had sniped from the kitchen and then they both would share it. It felt nice, to say the least.

Aone gripped Hinata’s hand firmly and shook, eyes watering just a little bit. It felt just like that first time he’d met Hinata on top of the wall. It feels a little warmer.

“So, did I help you, Hinata?” Aone asked, failing to blink the tears out of his eyes.

“You sure did, Aone. I couldn’t have gotten anywhere without you,” Hinata said as he wiped his eyes on one arm. His voice cracked just a little and he laughed. “You think we’ll meet again soon?"

Aone smiles. “The world’s a pretty small place, don’t you think? I met you on top of a wall in Siberia and you were in the same high school volleyball tournament as me.”

Hinata smiles back, all white teeth and dimples.

★

There were so many people milling around in the reception area but the world had never seemed so small. Hinata had travelled 5,000 kilometers to Anchorage and here was Yachi Hitoka, standing small and timorous as ever, hair pinned back with the same pink hairclips in high school. She hadn’t grown much, perhaps three or four centimeters, but her flitty nature was still there, her head turning left and right as she stood in a crowd of people one to two feet taller than her. Yachi’s blond hair had grown a little bit, curling slightly towards the ends. Hinata couldn’t believe it. If Aone were here, Hinata would have asked to be pinched.

He elbowed his way through the crowd and tapped Yachi on the shoulder. Her entire body jerked and she quickly bowed, hair covering her face. Hinata started laughing; Yachi was the same as ever.

Yachi looked up, curiosity plain on her face, soon to be replaced with astonishment. Hinata felt her small arms wrap around his back as she hugged him tight. Hinata noticed that she still had to stand on her tiptoes and something akin to nostalgia filled his chest. He felt like he was coming back home.

“Hinata!  What are you doing here?” Yachi released her hug and stepped back to take a once over. “You’ve gotten a lot taller and you look . . . different,” her eyes caught the small details: his pale skin, the emergence of his summer freckles, the subtle definition of his arms and legs. She looked back up at Hinata and smiled. “You’ve grown up, huh?”

Hinata gave her a thumbs up just like he used to in high school and Yachi laughed. It was the same tinkling laugh that left a pleasant ringing sensation in his ears. He was glad that there was someone familiar here, someone that still seemed the same even after a few years.

“Where have you been working for the past two years, Hinata? I always wanted to call you, but your mom would never tell me where you were,”  Yachi’s eyebrows narrowed and she crossed her arms almost comically.

“I’ve been working in wall construction,” Hinata says quietly, careful not to let his voice carry. A few people look his way and Yachi nods her head, knowingly.  “It was mainly for Natsu and my mom; we really needed the extra money. What have you been up to?”

“Nothing much,” Yachi says as she fidgets with her hands, “I’ve been interning with my mom’s ad agency but I came here to try my luck at becoming a Neural Bridge Operator.” Shimuzu’s words ring clear and resolute in Yachi’s mind: _All you need is a little bit of curiosity. “_ What about you?" _  
_

“I’m aiming to be a Ranger,” Hinata says quite a bit louder, puffing his chest out a little bit and Yachi stiffens as others begin to stare at them. Yachi’s eyes widen just a bit: she can feel his seriousness rolling off him in waves and she works up a small smile as motivation.

“That sounds great, Hinata. I’m sure you’ll be able to do it,” Yachi wasn’t lying. She knew what Hinata was capable of. After all, she was the one that had stayed behind with Hinata to practice serving and receiving, had woken up early to open the gym, had watched him train during lunch breaks, had seen him running around the school even during summer holidays.

Yachi was about to ask Hinata about Natsu but the hallway door leading to the main training building opened. A thickset man with wrinkles stacked on his forehead emerged with a piece of paper. The room became silent. The first round of elimination started now; apparently more than half the people would end their PPDC journey here. At least that’s what the orientation had stated. Hinata already knew this and he was ready. There was no way he was going to be turned away. His hand curled into a fist. Yachi fidgeted as the man cleared his throat.

“I’m going to be announcing the names of those who passed the entrance test. If you are called, just enter the room behind me. If you’re not, then you may leave. The PPDC has a strict one-time entrance policy. If your name is in our records and you try to retake the test again, you will not be able to.”

A few peoples’ eyes opened wide and others cursed silently under their breath. Yachi stopped breathing and Hinata had to pat her on the back to remind her to inhale and exhale. She could never handle stress all that well.

“Yachi Hitoka,” the man minces her name and for a second, Yachi doesn’t realize she’s been called. She yelps when Hinata pushes her forward towards the door. She turns her head back before the door closes and flashes Hinata a thumbs up which he returns. Hinata couldn’t keep a smile from his face now. His hands started sweating and he rubbed them up and down his pants in anticipation. The man kept running through the list, disinterestedly looking up every now and then. Hinata’s throat felt dry and his smile kept brightening as the names kept being called. His name was going to be called; he could feel it.

“Hinata Shouyou.”

His sweat is cold on the back of his neck and for a second, it feels like he’s sinking. He takes a step forward, robotic and calculated, then another step and another, until he reaches the door. The man turns around after him and the last thing he sees before the door shuts are the downcast faces, people who had come here with the same dream as him, only to have another door closed in their face, forced to go home with nothing but a sorry consolation of “I didn’t make it.” Hinata’s stomach dropped a little bit but he turned and kept walking forward. That was just how it was going to be: the strongest would move forward while the weaker ones were left behind. That was just how the world worked.

(It was just like volleyball.)

As soon as Yachi saw that Hinata had made it in with her, she ran over and hugged him again. Tears flowed down her face and Hinata picked her up and spun her around a few times. She laughs again, dipping her head and giggling like she’s in middle school again. She laughed like the world isn’t ending.

A door opens. A woman with eyes like steel marches out and stands in front of them all.

“As you all know, this training program will be a total of twenty four weeks, divided into eight three week trimesters,” her impenetrable gaze sorts through the crowd and it’s the first time Hinata has ever felt so small, “We will give you a resting week before we begin the program. I suggest you take the time to rest.”

“We’ll break your spirit once and then we’ll do it again. This is as close to hell as it gets,” she summarizes and dismisses them.

**.**

 

**.**

 

**.**

Yachi can’t breathe. Her eyes burn as she pounds relentlessly into the sandbag in front of her, with no poise, no grace. Hinata holds up the sandbag for her. The room is silent. There aren’t any summer cicadas this far up north, only the sound of fight sticks clattering against one another in the early morning. Yachi dips her head and coughs. Hinata sees her chest heave and her face looks paler than normal. He doesn’t say anything.

“I don’t think I can do this anymore,” Yachi coughs again, sweat dripping down onto the mat like light summer rain. She gulps down some water, but her hands shake and most of the water ends up on the ground.

“That’s what you always say, Yachi. But you keep forgetting how strong and smart you are,” Hinata says gently, setting the sandbag down on the ground and scooting over to sit next to her. He gently takes her hand and places it in his own. “Look at how tough you’ve gotten,” he murmurs again, tracing her calloused fingers with his own. The heater erupts to life from the corner and they sit like that for a while, both looking at Yachi’s hands.

Her hands are soft yet Hinata can feel every ounce of hard work pressed and carved into her bones. His fingers hover over a pink scar on her right pinkie finger and Yachi smiles. That scar was from the day she had won her first spar in the Kwoon Combat Room after more than three weeks of having been pushed and shoved to the ground. Her hair had been a mess but her eyes sparkled, sweat shining, smile triumphant. Hinata smiled at the memory and moved on. Yachi’s middle finger had a callous on the side of it from writing and Hinata closed his eyes. He remembered the entire week where Yachi had handwritten and color-coded notes for him to cram with. Hinata had seen her hands swollen and her wrist in a brace from writing all those notes. And it was all for him. You have to learn this before anything else, Hinata!

Her notes were exactly same as high school: small, slanted writing surrounded neatly drawn Kaiju and Jaeger diagrams, tiny exclamation points underscoring important details, highlighter marks smooth and confident. Hinata still had those notes safely tucked away in his duffel bag.

Hinata touched her thumb gently and noticed how thick it had become after more than eight weeks of practice in Conn Podd practice, how endless pounding into a sandbag had left imprints of the burlap fabric onto her skin. Her hands were nicked with little scars like constellations, overlapping with the smooth indents of the Drive Suit that continued up her arms like an intricate highway system. Yachi had gained a few pounds of muscle, but it wasn’t noticeable except in her arms.

Yachi smiled to herself and hummed, leaning onto Hinata’s shoulder. She laughed as she remembered the early morning sparring sessions with Hinata, how they’d had to sneak out and find a spare room to train in. It felt like something they would have done in high school, loaded down with snickers and flashlights in the dark. Yachi remembered Hinata teaching her the proper way to attack, to defend and on rare days, they would spar against one another.

Sparring with Hinata was a lot like dancing; Yachi would dodge and weave and parry, just like the directions stated, but Hinata would always surprise her. Sometimes he would be purely defensive, parrying and dodging by a hair’s breadth. Other times, he would storm forward and attack and Yachi would feel his pressure on the back of her neck, her throat would always feel dry. Hinata never seemed to overwhelm her; he would always match her energy, her fighting style and that’s what intrigued Yachi Hitoka. Over the past three weeks, she had noticed that Hinata, a bundle of toothy smiles and energy, could match almost anybody when sparring together. No matter who the person was, no matter whether Hinata liked them or not, he was able to put that aside and fight as equals.

“What are you thinking about?” Hinata asked, letting go of her hand and reaching to sip from her water bottle. Yachi squealed a little and reached out to grab it but Hinata kept it out of reach.

“I was just thinking about how you spar with everyone!”

“You’re strong, you know that?” Hinata elbowed her and stood up.

Yachi closed her eyes and thought about the hell she had endured for the past twelve weeks. She looked at her arms and her hands, calloused and scarred in all their beauty. Yachi felt strong and she was strong.

She could fight too.

**.**

 

**.**

 

**.**

Hell on earth ends for Yachi and Hinata with flimsy looking PPDC pins tacked to their lapels. It’s the early summer and Hinata hasn’t seen the sun in a long while. He turns his head to take a furtive glance at Yachi. Her shoulders are trembling as the Head Marshal shakes her hand, but she’s smiling.

After the ceremony, Yachi hands Hinata a few crumpled dollar bills. She gently presses them into his hand and he feels all the weight and emotion set into them.

"Go call Natsu."

Her smile is wobbly and teetery but her shoulders are set firm, her tone even. It’s exactly how the Jaeger Academy taught her to act in all situations, _Keep calm and collected, but don’t let your emotions be tucked away._

"Thanks, Hinata," Yachi tiptoes and hugs him. He feels his shoulder getting wet and Yachi sniffles.

He takes the money and doesn't say thank you. Hinata can’t find the right words to use, so he smiles.

Hinata’s always been better at smiling, anyways.

.

 

.

 

.

Hinata picks up the receiver and breathes. The receiver is red. It brings back too many memories of Tokyo, of the destruction and chaos, and how his hand was in the same place now. He dials the number and chews down on his lip, waiting for the barely intelligible English to relay its boring message.

“Hello?” It’s a low, humming voice and Hinata doesn’t say a word.

Natsu giggles and congratulates him. She’s eleven but her laugh has stayed the same.

He hangs up.

 **** _Would you like to make another call?_ The phone asks him. Hinata presses the END CALL button again. He feels sad for a second, just a second, when he realizes he doesn’t have anyone else left to call. The only number he had carved into his bones was Natsu’s.

(That one number was enough.)

★

Kageyama Tobio is a genius, always has been, and always will be. He’s grown up with a crown on his head, scowl on his face, tongue sharp and merciless. His hands were clean and smooth, fingertips soft; it had been a while since he had played volleyball. He had forgotten the smooth texture of the volleyball and had instead become more familiar with the harsh metal of the Jaeger, the engineered plastic of his Drive Suit sitting comfortably on his body.  Kageyama had no need for toys and meaningless sports from long ago. He was born to sit in a Jaeger and volleyball had been nothing but an avenue to get there. Kageyama liked to think that the Jaeger attack on Tokyo was God’s way of telling him he was meant for this.

But he wasn’t meant for this, not anymore. Considering he had failed a mission and had gotten his Co-Pilot killed in the process, Kageyama was surprised the most he had gotten were a few expletives thrown in his face from Kindaichi’s father and an icy glare from Kindaichi’s mother. Back home in the Shatterdome, most people avoided him and the only form of interaction he had had the past few weeks were glares and hushed cursing.

(Kageyama was used to the glares; they were almost like the ones he had faced in high school.)

(Most of them had been from his own teammates.)

(He had learned to ignore them.)

(He had gone to their house to apologize, an arm filled with gorgeous bouquets, but how were they supposed to appreciate crisp white chrysanthemums when the man in front of them had killed their own son?)

(Kageyama knew it would never work.)

It had been half a year since Kindaichi had died, but the pain he felt, deep down in his stomach, hadn’t faded. Kageyama supposed it never would. It had been his fault, his actions that had caused him to lose the one person in the entire world who could drift with him. Essentially, he was useless now. Kageyama Tobio, the one person capable of bringing Kaiju to their knees, was now unable to operate a Jaeger, didn’t have a Co-Pilot and was still in the process of healing.

(Brooding was what he called it.)

He didn’t sleep much anymore, only for an hour or two in the early hours of the morning. It didn’t help that whenever he closed his eyes, they would burn and it would just be like that day where one second, Kindaichi was there and then Kageyama had blinked, and then.

No one was there.

No one was there for Kageyama, not anymore. His room was empty and the top bunk bed was clean and empty, no mattress, no sheets; it was almost as if Kindaichi Yuutarou had never existed. Kagayama’s room was cold and sterile without Kindaichi’s homely additions, and truth be told, he missed Kindaichi. Kindaichi Yuutarou hated Kagayama Tobio with every fiber of his being, but Kageyama had shoved that fact away and focused on fighting the right enemy, not the one next to him. Kindaichi had left him in middle school with nothing but a few parting words, a sad, sort of angry stare was all Kageyama had to remember him by in high school.

Kageyama never expected Kindaichi to be the only one he could drift with. Kageyama had always pinned down Kindaichi as someone who didn’t work hard enough in middle school, but when he saw him in the Shatterdome, Kageyama had a different impression. Kindaichi had the same hair, but his eyes were warmer, shoulder firm, tone even. He seemed happier than in middle school and Kageyama wondered if his disappearance was the reason why.

(He didn’t wonder; he knew.)

Kageyama was the genius again and Kindaichi was the one shoved into partnership with him again. Kageyama felt something like nostalgia fill his stomach when he stepped into the Con-Pod with Kindaichi for the first time. Kindaichi turned his head a little and his lips slanted down.

_(We’re not friends, we’re partners.)_

He turned and stepped into the command platform without another word. Kageyama did the same.

Kageyama relived that middle school match all over again, except he was the one being yelled at — _Move faster! Jump higher! Match the timing and speed of my tosses!_ — and then no one was there. Nostalgia faded away and Kageyama watched Kindaichi walk away again, just like all those years ago. Kageyama watched as scenes of Kindaichi badmouthing Kageyama flipped by, like he was looking through a book.

The Drift Sequence went perfectly. Kindaichi was there, but Kageyama felt like no one was there, just hatred pooling in buckets, drenching Kageyama with the cold, hard truth: Kindaichi Yuutarou never forgot about that middle school final match.

(Kageyama never forgot either, but that wasn’t the point.)

When Kageyama disengages from the Conn-Pod, he turns and allows himself the luxury of asking a single question.

_(Why did you want to drift with me?)_

Kindaichi turned and smiled. It was a bitter smile, like he was biting into a sour apple.

_(I didn’t choose. Someone showed up to my door with an official document that said I had to.)_

Kageyama turns to leave but Kindaichi starts talking again.

_(It’s just like middle school, isn’t it? I was paired with you and I could never match you or catch up with you, not once. Maybe it’s just my ego speaking now, but the fact that I’m the only one that can drift with you is kind of like me catching up with you all those years ago. I hated you, but now I finally caught up. I’m partnered up with a prodigy but I caught up. All the hard work hasn’t been for nothing.)_

.

.

.

_(Do you still hate me?)_

Kindaichi never answers his question because Kageyama never asks.

Kageyama never asks until Kindaichi is drowning in the Conn-Pod with him.

He never gets an answer.

**.**

 

**.**

 

 **.** ****

Kageyama starts getting into fights a short while after Kindaichi dies. They’re petty, foolish fights, words flying with no thought, hands scrunched up tight and sometimes when his head gets a little too heated and when words aren’t enough, he’ll use his fists and then he’ll get wrestled to the ground and taken to the Marshal’s office. He’s angry, angry at himself, angry at the world, angry at everything. The Marshal, Ukai Sr, says nothing and just forces him to go back to his room.

“I’m talented; you need me out there fighting!” He yells as someone escorts him out of the room and Marshal Ukai drops his silent facade.

“We don’t need you until you can drift with someone. You’re useless, otherwise.”

Kageyama’s heard Marshal Ukai say this infinite times, but each time, it hurts a little bit more.

**.**

 

**.**

 

**.**

(Sometimes when he closed his eyes, Kindaichi was right there.)

That was what hurt the most.

**.**

 

**.**

 

**.**

Kageyama didn’t really do much around the Shatterdome after his failed mission. He mainly stayed in his room, only going out in the dead of the night to steal a few pieces of bread from the cafeteria, waking up at absurdly early morning hours to spar and train. Nothing would ever really replace the familiar weight and intensity of Kindaichi Yuutarou whenever he used to train with Kageyama, but for now, the listless punching bag in front of him was enough.

He would punch and punch, knuckles raw and burning, shoulders aching, mouth twisted in an evil expression. No one was there in the room with him so he could yell and kick and talk and breathe. He would talk endlessly to the punching bag in front of him, trying to desperately make up for all the words that he had never said, words that had always been shoved down his throat, words that had thought that another day would have come to use them, but that day never came. He whispered silent thank yous and good jobs to the punching bag in front of him and imagined what it would have been like if Kindaichi were there.

Maybe Kindaichi would have smiled, teeth showing just a little bit. Or maybe it would just be a small roll of the eyes, perhaps a silent scoff. Kageyama didn’t care what reaction it would have been. As long as he kept thinking about Kindaichi, it seemed like it would make up for all they never said to each other. Kageyama would keep imagining about all the what-ifs, all the could-haves, all the maybe's. That was all that got him through each day - the fact that maybe, just maybe Kindaichi would have done something.

But after the adrenaline faded, after Kageyama stopped imagining the punching bag to be Kindaichi, the tears came. He would feel them sear against his cheeks and his chest would heave. Sometimes he would lie down on the ground and cry for no reason at all. He would close his eyes and try to breathe through his nose, but it never worked.

(Nothing worked.)

Maybe the tears came just because they wanted to, some odd form of revenge Kindaichi had wanted to inflict on Kageyama. Kageyama didn’t care. He probably deserved it.

But whenever the clock struck 5 AM, Kageyama would wipe the tears off his face and move on.

(He never moved on.)

.

.

.

Sometimes, whenever Kageyama would lie in the dark, he’d remember how bright the sun had been the day that Kindaichi Yuutarou had died. Kindaichi hadn’t died a beautiful or courageous death, no long-winded speech about courage, no hand on the nuclear payload switch, ready to take down the Kaiju with all hands on deck. Instead, he had drowned, no words, not even a single gurgle or glance his way.

**.**

 

**.**

 

**.**

Kageyama Tobio and Kindaichi Yuutarou have spoken only 1,254 words to one another.

Kageyama Tobio secretly thinks that Kindaichi Yuutarou died hating him.

Kageyama Tobio was a genius who was right.

(Kageyama Tobio was a genius who hated being right.)

.

 

.

 

.

On the rare occasion that Kageyama went to try his luck out in the Drift Simulator, he was met with an assault of memories and most of the time, he would resurface out of the Drift, exhausted and confused. It was just like resurfacing out of the water in a beaten up Jaeger, all those days ago. Kageyama remembered being afraid to turn to his left, because there was Kindaichi, trapped and dead in his Drive Suit. Sometimes in the Drift, Kageyama would turn left and there would be no one there.

He didn’t know which was worse.

Other times when he was in the Drift, Kageyama would pick up other memories about that day: how bright the sun had been, how the water had looked so clear and murky at the time, how the sky was clear, no clouds. It was hard to believe that they were going to drop a nuclear warhead into the Breach. Kageyama didn’t know the details about how much destructive power was strapped to the back of their Jaeger but he knew it was a lot. Sometimes when he lied in the bed the weeks before, he allowed himself the childish indulgence of thinking about how beautiful the Breach would look as it collapsed upon itself.

(He remembered closing his eyes and smiled as imaginary explosions gently lulled him to sleep.)

.

.

.

Kageyama would remember how excited, how headstrong and overconfident he had been when he had been dropped in their Jaeger. When the Kaiju had appeared on their radar, Kageyama had forged ahead.

 _(I’m a genius.)_ The Drift says this to Kindaichi and he feels Kindaichi stiffen next to him.

 _(You’re not supposed to do this. Kageyama.)_ Kindaichi stops walking and turns.

“What are you doing?” Kindaichi frowns and Kageyama blinks. They hadn’t spoken in such a long time; Kageyama had almost forgotten the low lilt of Kindaichi’s accent.

“We can handle this.”

Kageyama feels Kindaichi lurch in the Drift and he has to remind himself not to use the word ‘we’ too often. Kindaichi wasn’t used to that yet. Kageyama stiffens, keeping an eye on the infrared radar.

“I can handle this. I can fight off this Kaiju and then we’ll drop the nuclear payload."

Oikawa interrupts their conversation through the intercom.

“What the hell are you doing? You’re the ones with the payload and _I’m_ the one who’s been deemed mission leader. We’re supposed to forward in a 2-1 battle formation, with you at the back. If that Kaiju is faster than what headquarters estimates it to be, no one can get to you. You’ll be stranded.”

Oikawa stops talking and Kindaichi nods.

“Let’s head back. Kageyama, we have to.”

_(I’m a genius, though.)_

Kageyama turns to his left to turn around and Kindaichi breathes a sigh of relief and then the Kaiju attacks out of nowhere.

.

.

.

The Kaiju that had attacked that day was the fastest Kaiju on record, reaching speeds of 30 miles per hour.

.

.

.

Kageyama remembered turning his head so fast that stars seemed to burst on his eyelids and then, there was screeching and claws appeared out of nowhere and then he was shoved down. Kageyama couldn’t feel himself breathe. Kindaichi somehow kept himself upright and activated the plasma-cannons and fired, right into the Kaiju’s stomach. It screeched again and Kageyama stood up.

They couldn’t move as fast as normal because of the payload on their back, so running away wasn’t an option. They either stood their ground and fought or they would die.

Kageyama activated their arm sword and waited silently to figure out where the Kaiju was. The infrared radar couldn’t catch up with its speed, which was alarming but Kageyama relied on his instincts. He turned and Kindaichi followed and they grappled with its tail. They had the upper hand, plasma cannons waiting on reserve, one sword on Kageyama’s right side. Kindaichi was as intense as ever, eyes piercing and cold, only focused on what was in front of him.

Kageyama blinked and one second, the Kaiju wasn’t there and then one second it was. It grappled with them, somehow arranging its arms to surround them, crushing down on them. It seemed to know where the Conn Pod was and it put extra pressure there. Alarms went off and Kageyama felt the oxygen turn off for just one second. A section of the glass in front of them broke and then the entire Conn Pod flooded and Kageyama was the only one with air now and Kindaichi was drowning next to him, air escaping. Kageyama felt himself drift in and out of consciousness after a few minutes but the crushing never seemed to stop. He felt the Jaeger’s right arm get torn off but he barely registered the pain.

Kindaichi wasn’t there in the Drift anymore. Kageyama was alone.

(He didn’t want to turn to his left.)

.

.

.

In Kindaichi Yuutarou’s autopsy report, the cause of death was stated as “asphyxiation due to drowning within Conn Pod.”

(Kageyama had a dream where the autopsy report instead said, Cause of Death: Kageyama Tobio.)

(Also included in the official report: _If it had not been Oikawa Tooru’s and Iwaizumi Hajime’s valiant rescue, it was likely that Kageyama Tobio would not have survived and damage to the Jaeger would have been irreparable._ )

.

.

.

Kageyama Tobio remembered seeing the sun as he resurfaced in a battered and broken Jaeger.

He wondered why it was so bright.

.

.

.

★

It’s April and Hinata is back home. The air smells heavy and full of promise, the early spring breeze bringing back too many memories. He never would have expected to find himself all the way back in Tokyo, the city that had fallen to his knees, the city where Hinata’s dream had taken flight. It was almost a nostalgic feeling, seeing the Shatterdome loom in front of him; humanity was still standing strong.

The landing dock was buzzing with people, Hinata can feel the urgency, the sense of purpose emanating off of each and every worker here. Everyone is united in their determination to win against the Kaiju and Hinata is finally glad that he’s found a place where he fits right in. He’s standing on the very edge of the helicopter landing dock, waiting for someone to come pick him up. The sun is bright and cheery, the early spring air clear and crisp on his skin. Hinata stands and hums, his bird song carried away by the wind.

A man with a firm face, eyebrows thick and pulled together, walks over towards Hinata. He takes a scrutinizing glance at Hinata and nods, almost as if to himself.

“Come with me,” he says, turning around and walking a few strides. He turns back and motions for Hinata to move forward with him, “The Kaiju can’t wait for you. We’re on a schedule here."

Hinata runs forward to catch up. He bites his tongue to keep from asking too many questions, from exclaiming the wrong things at the wrong times. Hinata has always been too full of words and too full of energy to ever keep his mouth shut, until now, at least. He knows he’s not supposed to say anything now, so he appeases himself by making a mental list of what he could talk to Natsu about.

His eyes never found a spot to rest on. There were rows and rows of heavy machinery, toolboxes loaded to the brim with huge nuts and bolts, trucks speeding through the foot traffic, hundreds of boxes of canned food and Kaiju samples ferried back and forth, an endless pendulum of efficiency swaying back and forth between the bay and the Shatterdome. It was incredible to see how seamless everything flowed, how boxes and reports were handed to one another without a single word, not even a single glance. Everyone knew what their duty was and they carried it out accordingly. Hinata was amazed. He had to keep his feet moving forward or he was sure he would just stand there, mouth agape in awe.

The man held open a door for him and Hinata stepped in. Cool, stale air-conditioned air filled the small hallway in front of him. The loudness of the landing dock suddenly faded away and Hinata felt like he was the last person on earth. The walls seemed to press into him, rigid black on gray, and it made Hinata Shouyou realize the task he had been entrusted with. His hands shook a little.

“The Marshal is waiting to see you inside.”

Hinata gulped, gripped the handle and pushed.

The air inside the Marshal’s office was unlike anything outside; it was heavy and determined and pessimistic and uplifting and confident, all at the same time. Hinata felt his stomach drop; whoever was sitting in the Marshal’s seat was clearly someone with power and conviction.

“You’re Hinata Shouyou, am I correct?” The Marshal’s voice was low and rumbling, years of grueling work tucked into his seemingly innocent words, accent gliding over Hinata’s name easily. The Marshal swiveled his chair to acknowledge Hinata. Marshal Ukai Sr. looked exactly as Hinata expected; an efficient military haircut, cleanly trimmed beard, firm jaw and eyebrows set in a permanently serious looking expression. Marshal Ukai Sr. was in a cleanly pressed suit, PPDC emblem aligned exactly on the lapel of his suit. His hands were large and veined and weary-looking, but they were set firmly against the smooth table top.

Hinata stiffened almost automatically, raising his chin, standing up just a little bit straighter.

“Yes, I’m Hinata Shouyou, arriving from the Vladivostok Shatterdome reserves.”

Someone coughed and Hinata suddenly realized that there was someone else in the room. Was this what it felt like to be around the Marshal? So much intensity and determination was poured into one person, no wonder it was hard to focus on anything _but_ him. Hinata turned his head.

“Wait! I played volleyball against you!” Hinata exclaims before he realizes he’s in a serious, professional setting. His cheeks heat up a little bit and he focuses on the man in front of him, “You’re Kageyama, right?”

Kageyama Tobio is tall and has a disinterested look on his face, just like all those years ago, except now they’re standing face to face, no volleyball net to keep them separated, nothing to keep their opinions and emotions divided from one another.

“Yeah,” Kageyama says, his mouth angling down, teeth biting down on his chapped lips, “Didn’t I play in the finals with you?” His eyes glint and Hinata frowns; there’s something in the way he runs through his words, lazily and unconcerned, that makes Hinata bristle. It’s like he doesn’t care that the world’s ending, that he’s the one who carries thousands of lives in his hand, that _he’s_ been hand-picked and groomed to fight Kaiju. Hinata’s fought tooth and nail for this position, he’s coughed up blood, had bones broken and here’s a man standing in front of him, who’s had everything handed to him on a silver platter.

Hinata and Kageyama stand like that for a few seconds, hands fisted at their sides. Marshal Ukai clears his throat and tells them both to focus on the matter at hand.

“You all know how Eastern countries have been attacked more successively in the past year?” Marshal Ukai dictated and Hinata nodded. Sydney and Manila had been attacked for the second time, while Hong Kong and Seoul had been attacked once. It was understandable, considering Eastern countries near the Breach would get more attacks, since they had more population, but no one had expected it to escalate this quickly. After all, it was only Year 7 of the Kaiju War.

“You are brought here for one reason, and one reason only. You were brought to this Shatterdome and ensured a spot as a Pilot in order to drift successfully with Kageyama Tobio,” Marshal Ukai says this measuredly, not bothering to ease it on them gently. He lets them both simmer in silence.

Hinata can’t believe it. He’s brought here and can finally make a difference — that was the plan he’d scrawled down on crumpled pieces of notebook paper in high school, pencil shaking with excitement — but now Kageyama Tobio was the unexpected and immovable obstacle in front of him. Hinata had gotten through hell on earth through hard work and yet here he was, forced to be part of a fixed pair with someone he hates on instinct.

“From the reports that have been submitted on you and recommendation letters that have been received here, it’s clear that you, Hinata, are something of an anomaly. You can Drift with anyone, you can trust anyone,” Marshal Ukai’s words fill Hinata with a false sense of pride and confidence but it’s not enough.

Hinata doesn’t understand why Kageyama isn’t saying anything, but he turns and sees that Kageyama is barely holding it in, lips thin and tight, hands curled into fists, back rigid and stiff. He doesn’t want to be in the same situation either. Hinata turns back and Marshal Ukai fixes him with such a penetrating glare that Hinata feels like bacteria under a microscope, carefully being taken apart, no feeling or emotion at all.

“I don’t care if you two want to kill each other outside of your Jaeger, but in your Jaeger, you will fight together. That’s an order."

Kageyama stops breathing and Hinata blinks.

They are dismissed.

.

 

.

 

.

(Hinata always wanted to ride a giant robot and fight giant monsters and become a giant hero.

Hinata never wanted to be part of a matched set.)

.

.

.

(Kageyama did.)

**.**

 

**.**

 

 **.**

After Hinata Shouyou’s entire life has been changed with one decision, a portly woman takes him to his own room. He asks why he’s not in the same room with Kageyama and her face falls, just a little bit. Hinata notices and makes a mental note not to bring up Kageyama in normal conversation.

For the next three weeks, he’s expected to polish his hand to hand combat skills enough to be able to _“compare to the above-average combat skill of Ranger Kageyama Tobio,”_ the official looking document states this clearly, underlining the word above-average, adding to Hinata’s frustration. Becoming a CoPilot meant matching one another, a give and take process, not one person trying desperately to catch up to the other. Hinata wanted to scrunch up the report out of frustration and angry disappointment but he merely laid the report on the frugal metal bedside table; it wouldn’t do him any good to lose the one chance he had at becoming a Ranger.

He closed his eyes.

For the first time in a long time, he dreams of Natsu.

.

.

.

Hinata can’t breathe and his head is fuzzy, his knees are bruised, scabs forming a patchwork of red and pink across his dry skin. His muscles ache and his throat feels dry, but the attacks keep coming, indiscriminate and terrifying. Hinata barely manages to dodge and block them, silently thanking his mother for his innate flexibility. A sparring stick appears out of nowhere and Hinata blocks it with his wristbone, wincing as he hears a telltale pop. The instructor stops for just a second until Hinata pops his wrist back into place.

The spar starts again and Hinata is dodging and weaving in between her quick and brutal blows, waiting for the right moment to strike, golden eyes calculating a thousand different scenarios and contingencies, hands poised in a relaxed position, ready to fight or defend at any moment. His hands block the spar stick easily and he quickly begins taking the upper hand, heels digging down into the soft mat. In a blur of hands and sweat and optimistic determination, Hinata knocks the stick out of the instructor’s hands and smiles wide, all teeth bared.

“Good,” the instructor nods and gives Hinata some room to breathe.

It’s been like this for the past three weeks, endless training and endless sparring, hundreds and thousands of fighting techniques crammed into his brain. Hinata makes a mental note to thank Yachi for all her help; there’s no way he would have survived this long without her help. Hinata coughs while drinking some water and he stands up.

“Is that it?” Hinata asks, eyes full of fighting spirit.

The instructor smiles and nods.

“You’re done, kiddo. All that’s left is for you to spar with Kageyama,” she says nonchalantly, picking up all her supplies.

“What?” Hinata asks, genuinely confused. He never heard about this; the less he mentioned Kageyama, the more he was liked. The less he interacted with Kageyama, the better. The less anything had to do with Kageyama Tobio, the better.

“You didn’t know? Well, everyone’s going to be there, so I’d suggest you rest up.”

.

.

.

Wherever Hinata goes, there’s whispering, hushed words behind file folder full of classified information, gasps of shock in the cafeteria, as the word spreads, how this small fiery-headed boy is sparring against the Kageyama Tobio, the king of this Shatterdome, head held high, no feelings at all for those around him. Hinata half expects someone to walk up to him and wish him good luck.

A few people surprisingly do.

★

Hinata can’t sleep. It’s five in the morning, his head hurts and he can’t find a comfortable position to sleep in. His eyes burn a little bit and his head aches, the pain throbbing behind his eyes. It’s always been like this the night before anything important. Hinata finds it in himself to smile a little because this was exactly like the night before the national finals. He couldn’t fall asleep so he quietly woke up Natsu and they went outside of the hotel and tossed a volleyball a couple of times, until they both had to go and eat breakfast. He remembered how calm he had felt talking with Natsu, how the early morning city hubbub just barely interrupted their conversation. Hinata remembered how Natsu had laughed over one of his silly jokes and he smiled, getting up from bed. It wouldn’t do any good to stay and brood. Maybe the cafeteria was open so he could eat breakfast in silence, without anyone whispering about him behind his back.

The cafeteria was empty and Hinata was thankful. He needed to keep an open mind if he ever wanted to drift Kageyama all the way; he knew his faith in others had brought him this far, so maybe having a little faith in Kageyama would make the spar go a little better.

“You’re Hinata, right?” A lazy sounding voice interrupted Hinata’s silent musings. Hinata turns and sees a fairly tall man with brown hair, a lazy looking smile pasted on his face, his eyes glinting a little bit, out of malice or good will, Hinata doesn't know. There's something in his eyes that makes Hinata want to shiver a bit.

"You're Hinata, am I correct?" It's his eyes, Hinata definitely figures out, his eyes are so deep and penetrating and hard to decipher that Hinata feels himself stop breathing for a little bit.

The man in front of him laughs a little and moves to sit down across from Hinata.

"I'm Oikawa Tooru, another Ranger here. I pilot Encanto Dawn." He doesn't offer his hand for a friendly handshake; he notices how Hinata's body shrinks away from him. Oikawa is not wanted here. He opts for a smile that looks a little less sleazy.

"You're sparring with Kageyama, huh?" Oikawa makes a little tsk noise and Hinata feels his ears start to warm; he doesn't want to be looked down, he doesn't want to look weak, he doesn't want any pity from anyone, least of all from another Ranger.

Hinata shrugs, keeping his temper and pokes a little at his meal.

“I’m guessing you don’t know anything about him?”

Hinata drops his fork. His head turns.

Oikawa’s teeth glint a little in the shadows he’s somehow wrapped into and Hinata blinks. Oikawa coughs, clears his throat and starts talking.

.

.

.

_(Kageyama is a genius.)_

_(I already know that. Tell me something new.)_

.

.

.

_(There was no one he could drift with. No one was there. At least until Kindaichi came around.)_

_(What do you mean by came around?)_ __

_(Well, Kageyama needed someone. And Kindaichi knew him from middle school volleyball. They tried to work together. It never worked. Kageyama was overbearing and overly expectant and Kindaichi really tried and then Kindaichi was right back at square one when he came here to save the world and instead he got middle school Kageyama shoved right back in his face again.)_ __

_(Did he come around?)_

Oikawa’s eyes flash and his mouth tenses.

_(Of course he did. Kageyama was the one who didn’t.)_

.

.

_(I was so close to him when he died. He was right there. But I couldn’t reach him. I couldn’t do anything. Do you know how shitty of a feeling that is? Kindaichi was right there, drowning and all I could think about was middle school. While he was dying, all I remembered was his frown whenever he used to try and match Kageyama’s toss. I didn’t even stop and think about all the times he had smiled in high school. All I remembered was that one match, that one frown, that one crinkle in his forehead.)_ __

_(Kindaichi died. Kageyama lived. People said we were lucky that Kageyama survived. They lied.)_

__

_(We weren’t.)_

.

.

 

.

_(Whose fault was it?)_

Oikawa smiled, no teeth, lips tilted downwards.

_(It definitely wasn’t his.)_

Hinata’s head feels light, his heart heavy. He’s angry.

.

.

.

Oikawa stops talking after while; his shoulders dip yet he still offers a shrug of acceptance. Hinata knows this is as far as their conversation will go.

He leaves and he hears Oikawa cough.

(It sounds like he’s holding back tears.)

.

.

.

(Hinata lies on his bed for a few hours and falls asleep.

He dreams of someone he doesn’t know all that well.

He wakes up.

Hinata wonders if he’s the placeholder for Kindaichi.

What would happen if he failed, Hinata wondered.)

.

.

.

The training room is large and loud, metallic murmurs reverberating all around the room. People are milling about, greasy hands tucked in mechanic’s work clothes, sweat pooling in shoulders; a few Pilots are standing near the edge of the mat, lips tight. When they catch Hinata’s eyes, they look away. It’s like they’re apologizing. Hinata hates it.

Instead, he focuses on the cool mat underneath him, the stale, airconditioned air ruffling the cool sweat on the back of his neck. Hinata closes his eyes and breathes. In and out. The Marshal is standing at the edge of the mat, clean pressed suit arranged on his shoulders impeccably neat, a Kwoon Fight Master next to him, lips pressed, clipboard held tight. Hinata never expected the Marshal to be here; he never thought the combination of Hinata and Kageyama were really all that important.

Kageyama comes out of the other door in the far corner and the buzz and hum disappears all too quickly. Kageyama doesn't make eye contact — he doesn't need to, Hinata reminds himself.

(Kageyama is a king after all. Hinata can't let himself forget about that.)

The mat moves a little from Kageyama's weight at the other end. Hinata notices how easy, how nonchalant he looks about the whole thing and it makes him angry. Hinata has coughed up blood and dislocated ankles and wrists and yet, here was Kageyama Tobio yawning as if this was nothing more than a fight with a child. Hinata grit his teeth together, careful to keep the anger within him, channeling all his rage into his clenched fists.

Marshal Ukai cleared his throat.

"The match between Kageyama Tobio and Hinata Shouyou will now commence. The match will be out of five points. First to five points takes the match." He pauses a bit after his speech and fixes Hinata with a simple glare, as if to say _Here's your chance. You win and you gain everything._

Hinata grabs a sparring stick from the ground and runs his hands over it, reassuring himself with the swirling whorls and gentle lulls of the wood. It reminded him of the wood blocks he had bought for Natsu, the endless hours spent building indestructible towers and buildings replaying in his mind again. He breathes. His hands move of their own accord and Hinata arranges himself in a fighting stance, elbows loosely jutted out, hips low and parallel with the ground. He is a robot, mechanical and exact.

"Begin."

Kageyama rushes forward, all fire and heat, heels digging into the mat like the steps of a giant, spar stick gripped tightly between his hands; Hinata sees the harsh blue outline of Kageyama's pale knuckles too clearly before he feels a sharp pain pierce his shoulder. Kageyama doesn't wait a moment for Hinata to catch his breath: he pushes and pushes, one hand suddenly on Hinata's knee pulling him down and now there's a stick pointed towards Hinata's throat and Kageyama Tobio has never seemed so insurmountable until now. Hinata's throat is dry and the back of his neck is sweaty. This was not going as planned.

"One to zero."

The crowd remains silent. They've all seen this before.

Hinata struggles out of Kageyama's grasp. He reminds himself to take a deep breath and angles the stick towards the ground. Kageyama rushes forward again and now Hinata barely keeps up — his hands move and the stick moves with it — there's a _thwack_ as their spar sticks collide and Hinata tries to dig his toes into the mat below them, but Kageyama keeps pushing and pushing, until Hinata has no choice but to weave under and around him. Kageyama easily swivels his stick around and hits Hinata in the face. Hinata staggers back and touches his nose. It's bleeding.

"Two to zero."

The spar stick starts to waver a little bit in his hands and the blood drips onto the mat. Kageyama rushes forward again, a scowl etched onto his face and Hinata barely dodges again — his head hurts and his nose throbs — and Kageyama keeps jabbing and hitting and piercing and punching and it's all too much, even for Hinata, the boy who had been through hell twice just to stand on the same mat with Kageyama Tobio.

(This genius seemed to be too much for him.)

 _(No.)_

His nose hurts, his eye is swollen and his lip is cracked yet Hinata's head is clear. He cannot quit now. He has people he's fighting for all the way around the world. He has people he needs to protect. His hands don't waver as he picks up his spar stick from the ground and he quickly rubs his nose against his shirt, leaving a paint stroke of blood along his sleeve. Hinata has the rhythm of Kageyama's movements down now - it's a classic two - one pattern: distract with two feints and a hit the third time around. Hinata just needed to get beat up before he realized a simple fact.

Kageyama Tobio had gone through the same training Hinata had. The same numbers and equations and maneuvers were embedded into his subconscious, always there as a last resort, even though Kageyama never found the need to use it.

Hinata rushes forward.

Kageyama's eyes widen as Hinata ducks down and slides a foot around his ankle, knocking him to the ground. He could feel the breath knocked out of him as Hinata's foot pushed uncomfortably between his shoulder blades.

(He almost missed that feeling. It was almost like sparring with Kindaichi —)

Kindaichi was dead. In the heat of the moment, Kageyama almost forgot that.

"Two to one." A few murmurs from the crowd. Hinata doesn't hear them.

_Kindaichi Yuutarou is dead._

Kageyama rushes forward now, but Hinata  easily parries, dodging and weaving calculatively, eyes flashing with some unknown knowledge and Kageyama is upset, upset that someone other than Kindaichi could make him feel so angry and pissed off and frustrated. Kageyama scowled and moved forward again, wrestling Hinata to the ground, legs wrapped around his throat, spar stick angled near his throat once again. Hinata turned around and twisted his body impossibly so now Kageyama was caught between the stick and the mat below them both and once again; he felt his throat tense, his lungs lost all their air and he fought to keep his head clear.

_Kindaichi Yuutarou is dead._

"Two to two." More murmurs. Neither Kageyama nor Hinata heard anything.

Kageyama got up and rolled his shoulders, forcing himself to breathe, in and out.

Hinata and Kageyama locked eyes. Hinata felt that same shiver run down his back, the same one before his final match with Kageyama in middle school. Everything had come back to this single point in time; there was nothing but Kageyama and Hinata in the room now

Hinata moved and Kageyama moved at the same time and then their hands locked, their sticks clashed, their eyes met and then suddenly it felt like they were the only ones in the room, suspended in space, the stars the only witness to their fight. Kageyama took a deep breath and twisted his body a bit and Hinata matched him exactly and everything just clicked.

It wasn't a brawl anymore, it was a conversation, an exchange of gestures and movements, no words - a ball being tossed back and forth across a net, seamless receives and passes lengthening each and every second, an endless onslaught of strikes and blows and Kageyama was so enthralled: his hands trembled with anticipation, his heart stuttered as their strikes connected with one another. There was so much noise around them - people were shouting, clapping, the Marshal was marking down points - yet Hinata and Kageyama were alone, the mat under them the only thing keeping them tied to the ground.

Kageyama blinked.

He saw Kindaichi for just a second, nothing but an afterimage stamped onto the back of his eyelids.

_Kindaichi Yuutarou is dead._

Kageyama stopped. His stick dropped. His head felt hollow.

Hinata stopped too; he didn't understand why. They were both drift compatible, surely Kageyama had felt it too. Hinata couldn't have been imagining it.

"We can't be drift compatible," Kageyama says.

"What do you mean, we can't? You had to have felt it! Everyone saw it!" Hinata's voice cracks.

"We can't be drift compatible."

 _(I'm only drift compatible with someone who is dead.)_

"We are!" Hinata's hands clench around the stick and he walks forward, face to face with Kageyama.

"No. We're not." Something terrifying flashes in Kageyama's eyes and the temperature of the room seems to drop a little.

"Kageyama. The match is over. We will make our decisions accordingly," the Marshal murmurs and he flinches.

He leaves the room and Hinata stands there, the entirety of the world tipping over, falling to the ground beneath him.

.

.

.

The next morning, Kageyama and Hinata receive a freshly printed report, full of verbose language and laudatory remarks, outside their respective doors. On the last page are the underlined words: _Kageyama Tobio and Hinata Shouyou are all-clear to start practicing in a Jaeger, under the orders of Marshal Ukai._ Underneath the statement is the Marshal’s firm signature.

Kageyama reads the report and throws it away. He goes back to brooding.

Hinata grudgingly keeps the report, hangs it up on his wall and picks up the phone to call Natsu.

He wishes he could cross out the name next to his on the report.

.

.

.

_(Natsu, I did it.)_

Hinata Shouyou didn’t feel as if he had accomplished or changed anything.

.

.

.

They try to drift and it works and everyone is surprised, most of all Hinata himself. It’s nothing like their spar from before; it’s like an awkward handshake, mechanical and forced in its execution. Kageyama feels closed off at all times, Hinata notes every time he reemerges from the Drift, tired, sweaty and still frustrated. Hinata has laid down his entire heart, soul and mind but Kageyama was only offering bits and pieces, just enough stepping stones for Hinata to get across the river that was Kageyama in the Drift.

That doesn’t stop Kageyama from performing like the prodigy he was. There was no hesitation in any of his strikes at all and Hinata was caught up in the wonder and grandiose of it all, caught up in how precise and brutal all of his attacks were — he had fought against this person before and now they were side by side — and Hinata had to remind himself to blink whenever he would glance to his right and see Kageyama Tobio almost, _almost_ at his former prime.

(Kageyama Tobio would never reach his former prime, but that wasn’t the point now.)

Hinata couldn’t shake the nagging feeling in his chest that something was certainly wrong with Kageyama Tobio.

.

.

.

Whenever Kageyama was in the Drift with Hinata, it was a bit like the sun shining down his back, but Kageyama didn’t want the sun, he never deserved it. Hinata was here and now, but Kageyama was still drowning in the past and he was barely holding it together. Sometimes when he was in the Drift with Hinata, he’d feel something in the pit of his stomach, because it felt like Kindaichi was right there, but when he turned to his left, Kindaichi was not there.

(He never would be there.)

(That certainly didn’t stop Kageyama from trying to see if one time, Kindaichi might.)

.

.

.

They practice in the simulator together for six weeks.

Hinata looks to his right and wonders what in the world Kageyama Tobio is hiding. They’re partners, after all.

Kageyama secretly keeps looking to his left.

(Kindaichi isn’t there. It’s only Hinata.)

.

.

.

Kageyama lets the secret loose one time in the simulator, on accident; he trips over a faint memory of the outline of Kindaichi’s hair and then he’s falling and falling, but just for that one second, it seems like Kindaichi is alive again. Hinata stops and they both go out of sync.

Hinata disengages.

“That was Kindaichi, wasn’t it?”

Kageyama doesn’t answer.

“Answer me.”

Silence.

“He’s dead, Kageyama. People die. Are you paying attention to me or are you stuck here thinking about Kindaichi?”

 _(You don’t know what it’s like, to have someone ripped from your head.)_ Kageyama keeps his mouth shut.

“I was brought here for one reason, just to be able to Drift with you. You should understand that now. Without me, you are nothing.” Hinata says this with the firmest tone possible; his hands don’t shake, not anymore.

Kageyama feels something hollow in his ears, like the ocean roaring, just like all that water flooding the Conn Podd when Kindaichi died and he can’t hear anything but he’s angry. His hands shake and he bites down hard on his lip. Kageyama tastes blood.

Hinata leaves and even though he’s out of the Drift, Kageyama swears it’s Kindaichi that’s leaving, once again.

.

.

.

A few weeks later, the Marshal comes and checks their progress.

He is impressed.

Marshal Ukai sees the full fighting capability of Kageyama Tobio come alive again. He notices Hinata matching Kageyama easily, almost impossibly, all hard work and sweat and keen determination. The Marshal sees their eyes flash together, they move exactly as they're supposed to and their Drift looks wonderful, calm, no hint of struggle. He sees hope, maybe too much.

(What he doesn't see are the uneasy looks they both aim towards each other when they think the other one is not looking.)

.

.

.

"You both will do it for real, in a real Jaeger tomorrow."

He half expects them to jump out of their chairs from pure joy. They don't.

Kageyama's shoulders droop a little.

Hinata's smile fades a little from his face.

.

.

.

 

Hinata wakes up the morning before and feels uneasy.

He’d heard stories and urban legends of how the Jaeger was a living, breathing thing, something that didn’t accept everyone, something that needed to be compatible with you, something that couldn’t be replaced by pure talent and determination, but by time and effort. Hinata remembered lying with Aone under the stars and listened to Aone’s tales of how he  _sweared_  that he saw Jaegers shift and move in the early dawn sunlight, how they were alive and breathing. They weren’t just giant metal robots.

Hinata was worried: what if their Jaeger didn’t accept them? All those years of silence between Kindaichi and Kageyama couldn’t be erased in just a few moments. Their Jaeger was the only true connection Kindaichi and Kageyama had together; they communicated through their Jaeger — they never talked to one another in or out of the Drift, Hinata knew this for sure.

.

.

.

There are hundreds of people milling about as they both step in Horizon Aurora, for the first time. The inner Conn Podd is a bit dusty and Kageyama swears he can still smell the faint smell of sea water embedded in the walls; it fills his nose and he almost feels like throwing up.

(It smells faintly like Kindaichi, somehow, but Kageyama doesn’t know why or how.)

Hinata senses that something is wrong with Kageyama so he turns and offers a small smile. To Kageyama, it looks like the sun rising.

It’s far too bright for someone as despicable as him.

.

.

.

When they enter the Drift, it’s cool and calm, as always but Kageyama feels a bit off center and Hinata feels this deep in the pit of his stomach; it gnaws at him and bites and hurts. Hinata just shakes it off and moves on.

“Ok then, Horizon Aurora, Drift Sequence strong and holding. Let’s see if you can move around a little. It’s been a long time since she’s moved around.”

Out of the corner of his eye, Kageyama sees Marshal Ukai in the display and pales significantly.

Horizon Aurora lurches and Hinata is thrown back. He feels the Drift shudder but he keeps it as steady as he can.

“Kageyama, it’s going to be alright. Just breathe and let yourself float. Remember what they used to say in the Jaeger Academy? Never latch on to anything in the Drift; don’t pay attention to anything but what’s in front of you. The Drift is nothing but memories of the past.” Hinata feels his voice crack a little.

Hinata keeps talking and talking out of desperation because he can feel Kageyama drifting further and further away, going out of alignment faster than Hinata had ever thought possible. His words aren’t helping, but Hinata didn’t know what else to do; he had been brought up on thoughtful and honest words from the Jaeger Academy, not on the cold silence Kageyama and Kindaichi had shared.

He scrunches his eyes up a little and focuses on happy thoughts, thinking that maybe, _maybe_ that would comfort Kageyama. Hinata stumbles over a memory of the first time he had picked up a volleyball and out of nowhere, Kageyama grasps on to that.

Kageyama doesn’t let go.

.

.

.

Hinata falls into Kageyama's memories. He screams. Red lights flash and the computerized voice voices its concerns, but that doesn’t matter now. A weapon activates and the Neural Bridge Operator yells but Hinata doesn't hear anything. His head is filled with hundreds of thousands of different memories — one second, it was Kageyama holding a volleyball as a child, wobbly smile lighting up his face — and then it was Kageyama running away from the Kaiju, feet pounding into the ground, heart caught in his throat, no energy to scream. Hinata’s head hurts from the immensity of it all, every single memory of Kageyama Tobio is released within what seems like a millisecond, but then it seems like it’s hundreds of millions of years and Hinata needs to find a resting point, perhaps a star to touch down to.

Hinata is surprised, he’s astonished, he’s confused — he’s the mixture of so many different feelings and it’s all because of one thing, one simple fact.

Hinata Shouyou never expected Kageyama Tobio to be able to feel anything.

.

.

.

(He hears something that sounds faintly like a booing crowd and Hinata is playing volleyball again.)

(Except it's Kageyama playing, the only one on the court, with the metaphorical crown placed on his head, the volleyball balanced elegantly between his fingers, the firm letters Shiratorizawa marching across his shoulder blades, like clipped wings, almost.)

(On the other side of the net, Oikawa is standing with Iwaizumi and they seem so, so tall, full of quiet confidence and talent and Kageyama, no, Hinata can feel how helpless and lost Kageyama had been when he saw Kindaichi, all the way on the other end of the court, except Kindaichi was smiling. He was laughing with Kunimi, all light and sweat and happiness and Kageyama couldn't do anything of the sort from their middle school days. Kageyama didn't even feel as though there was anyone on his side of the net. No one was there.

Oikawa would toss effortlessly and Kageyama would try so, so hard to block and spike and lead and set all at the same time — it was too much — and then suddenly Kindaichi would be spiking and their eyes would meet and Kageyama wasn't even sure he recognized the same Kindaichi; Kindaichi's eyes were too full of fighting spirit and something that looked a bit like the stars, something that Kageyama had never seen when they worked together.

 _If_ they had ever worked together.)

Kageyama stirs stubbornly in the Drift and the memory dissolves away, leaving Hinata alone and wanting to know more.

(Hinata blinks again and then there's Kageyama, except he's young again, too full of harsh words and talent and unbridled optimism that swamped everyone around him. It looked like the same net from before except now Shiratorizawa is on the other side.

Kageyama still could not reach them.

He’s angry and upset at Kindaichi, Kunimi, at everyone on his entire team; they’re not trying at all. His team gave up on themselves, but Kageyama was never, ever going to give up on himself. His hands ball into fists as yet another point is stolen from them and he feels his head burn. He scrunches his eyes so tight that he sees universes on the back of eyelids.

“Jump higher! Move faster! Match the speed of my quick strikes!” Kageyama yells while looking towards the waxed floor underneath him. He doesn’t open his eyes. Kageyama doesn’t know if he can meet their eyes.

The ball is set in the air perfectly and Kageyama turns to see if someone was there, waiting, ready to strike.

No one was there

The ball dropped to the ground.

Kageyama turned back.

All he saw was Kindaichi’s back, the defeated slouch of his shoulders telling more to Kageyama than words ever could.

(Not that they had any need for something as meaningless as words.)

.

.

.

Somewhere within all the noise and pain and emotion, Kageyama activates a weapon that was not ready to be used.

Horizon Aurora wasn’t ready for both of them together, not just yet.

The Jaeger collapses and Kageyama blacks out.

(Hinata is alone and somehow, he understands everything.)

.

.

★

Oikawa is furious with the results of Kageyama’s and Hinata’s test run.

“You can’t expect _him_ to become a Ranger again, can you, Marshal? He destroyed his own Jaeger. He’s too stuck up on Kindaichi and you know what kind of effect that has on combat. I don’t ever want to have to depend on someone so selfish, Marshal.” Oikawa’s face contorts as he spits out what seem like expletives to Hinata. Iwaizumi is next to him, mouth scowled, arms crossed, making no attempt to stop Oikawa.

The Marshal says nothing.

Hinata is the only one in the room who notices how Kageyama’s shoulders continue to fall lower and lower.

“With all due respect, Ranger Tooru, we can’t just abandon two pilots from just one failure. I’m not about to waste all the millions of dollars I’ve invested in these two for them not to work. I don’t care what they do, but they will fight for _me._ ”

Oikawa scowls but he doesn’t say anything.

The Marshal turns his attention to Hinata and Kageyama.

“As you know, your Jaeger has been deemed unusable by our mechanic teams. She will have to be scrapped. She’ll be headed for the Jaeger Graveyard.”

Kageyama can’t feel a damn thing.

“As for you two, you will be demoted and moved to the Vladivostok Shatterdome effective immediately. You are now off the front lines of combat. A helicopter will arrive in three hours time. You are dismissed.”

Kageyama feels the words boil and burn and sear his tongue and he opens his mouth to say something he knows will land them both in deeper trouble, but Hinata touches the back of his hand lightly. It’s a comforting gesture and Kageyama’s head clears, just a little bit. It keeps the sinking feeling in his stomach from reaching his head, at least for now.

They leave the Marshal’s office in silence.

 

**★**

 

Vladivostok is warmer than Kageyama ever expected. The world should have been cold and harsh. It’s the middle of summer when they arrive, loaded down with shattered hopes and no place of their own. They are outcasts now, no hope of regaining their former glory.

Hinata tries to make the best of it, he tries to work with Kageyama, slowly but surely, but it doesn’t work. Kageyama is reinventing the wheel just to run himself over and over again; Kageyama is angry, angry at the world, angry at Hinata, but most of all, he’s angry at himself. He doesn’t know what to do with himself anymore; he no longer has any talent to call his own, not after he screwed it up for eternity. There didn’t seem to be anyone there for him, not now, not ever.

(He sometimes dreams at night about Kindaichi and every time he wakes up, his head hurts and it feels like all those months ago, but Kageyama thought he had gotten over Kindaichi.)

(It seems that he hadn’t.)

.

.

.

Hinata decides that it’s best to leave Kageyama alone, just for the time being.

There was no point adding salt to the wound, no, it was not a wound, it was a chasm that filled Kageyama’s heart.

.

.

.

While Kageyama buried himself in old memories, Hinata meets Haiba Lev and Morisuke Yaku. They’re fellow CoPilots of the Jaeger Atlas Willow, the sole defenders of the bleak and bitter Vladivostok Shatterdome and when Hinata asks why they chose here of all places, Lev laughs and easily goes: “It’s the least we can do for the people who brought us all the way here.”

Lev mutters something in Russian to Yaku from the corner of his mouth and Yaku punches him in the shoulder. Lev pantomimes falling to the ground out of misery while Yaku elaborates.

“People didn’t see that Vladivostok was worth protecting, but it was, at least to us. There are real people living here, with families and friends and memories, real people that donated their faith in us to protect them.”

Hinata is shocked. There are people all around the world who all believe in the same things he does.

 

.

.

.

Lev and Hinata mesh easily; they’re both filled with what seems like blind optimism, hearts filled to the brim with hope, loud words tumbling from their mouths, their yells of happiness reverberating through the Shatterdome on more than one occasion.

Hinata remembers shrieking out loud in surprise when he realized that he had seen Lev play in the same volleyball tournaments as him. They had never faced off against one another but Hinata was still astounded; he had been all around the world and all he had seen were familiar faces.

They played volleyball with one another often, spiking and receiving until their hands were pink and raw, until their forearms were red and throbbing from the thousands of receives they once again carved into their bones. There were hardly ever any Kaiju attacks, so they practiced day in and day out, using volleyball as a way to break the endless monotony.

But sometimes, whenever a kaiju alarm would go off, Hinata’s heart would soar a little, because, maybe, just _maybe_ he would be able to go out there again and see the entire world from the top again, but he knew Kageyama wasn’t ready.

He would just have to wait.

.

.

.

Sometimes Hinata would lie in bed and contemplate what it would be like to be Kageyama Tobio, born with all the limitless talent and confidence, only to have it shattered numerous times, brick by brick, twig by twig, stone by stone. He tried to imagine what it was like to lose someone right next to you when in the Drift, how it felt to have someone hate you from their very core, but then they had to turn around and work together with you. It must have been so difficult, to never talk, to only rely on each other’s abilities and to never really connect.

Whenever Hinata would close his eyes, he would remember Kageyama seeing Kindaichi on the other side of the volleyball net and his heart would hurt.

Hinata would lull himself to sleep with the promise that one day, someday soon, he would be able to heal Kageyama’s heart and soul.

.

.

.

They spar once and there’s an awkward conversation afterwards, because Hinata wants to understand everything about Kageyama but Kageyama doesn’t want to divulge anything. Better to keep all the pain in, he reasons.

 _(Just what did Kindaichi mean to you?)_ Hinata asks, breathing hard and coughing.

Kageyama stumbles over his explanation like jagged stones in a river:

 _(It’s my fault, all of it — he never deserved me, you don’t know how hard it was — he was in my head but he never wanted to be there and this all happened before and Kindaichi knew but here he was, somehow still with me, and he didn’t deserve it. He never did. It’s all my fault.)_ There’s a sad look in his eyes like broken glass that worries Hinata; Kageyama was slowly getting better and here was Hinata, reopening the wound.

Hinata doesn’t want to abandon Kageyama, not like the rest of the Shatterdome did.

He convinces Kageyama to go see their Jaeger in the Graveyard in Oblivion Bay, California.

 

**★**

 

Hinata and Kageyama walk in silence as they enter the Jaeger Graveyard; the sunlight frames their backs and the wind fills their noses with the smell of the end of summer. It doesn’t feel like the world is ending at all.

It feels a bit eerie, seeing these giant, hulking beasts rusting with no one there to remember that the two people inside each and every one of these Jaegers were real people, people with hopes and dreams. The graveyard creaked and crumbled in its own sorry silence. Hinata comes to the graveyard with a hand filled with wild sunflowers and Kageyama wonders why, but doesn’t ask. It’s best not to know at all.

Kageyama and Hinata meander through the graveyard: Hinata is two steps forward, while Kageyama is one step back, taking his time to stop next to each Jaeger and bow in respect. It’s the least he can do to repent. Meanwhile, Hinata stops near every Jaeger and places a lone flower near its foot; sometimes he’ll tuck it in a joint near the foot or prop it up on the Jaeger’s leg.

“Why are you doing that?” Kageyama asks, without stopping himself.

“Oh, this?” Hinata says, holding up a flower while smiling a little to himself, “Well, this was something my little sister and I used to do way back whenever the Kaiju weren’t around. We’d collect all these sunflowers and place them on every grave. Mom told us it was a way of thanking them, a way to remind those who had passed that death was beautiful, in its own way.”

Kageyama doesn’t say a word and moves on. Hinata doesn’t mind.

There are about ten or so Jaegers, arranged from oldest to newest, so it takes a while for them to make it to the very back. Kageyama knows what he will see here. He doesn’t want to see it.

Hinata knows what’s there as well.

Kageyama opens his eyes a bit wider as he takes in all of the rusted glory of Horizon Aurora, sitting broken and silent in the far corner of the Graveyard. Her arms hang loosely by her sides, the fibers broken and swaying in the breeze. The inner nuclear engine had been removed, leaving an irregular hole, like a human with its heart ripped out. It reminded Kageyama a little bit of himself.

Hinata walks up next to him and tucks a flower into his hand. Kageyama notices that Hinata’s hands are warm.

He knows what he’s supposed to do, but Kageyama can’t bring himself to do it. His hands shake a little and he crushes the stem a bit too hard. Kageyama was never meant to hold something so fragile and beautiful.

“I know how you feel, Kageyama,” Hinata says simply, turning his head to the sky, “I’ve been in your head after all. I know what Kindaichi meant to you.”

“So then, why did you ask?” Kageyama examines the flower in his hands, not wanting to meet Hinata’s eyes.

“Because I wanted you to figure it out by yourself. You have to move on by yourself but that doesn’t mean I can’t help you along the way.”

Hinata places his hand on Kageyama’s back and pushes him forward a bit, closer towards the Jaeger, closer towards all the memories of Kindaichi Kageyama had unsuccessfully pushed away to one corner of his head.

“It’s going to be okay, Kageyama. I know that you understand what you did wrong. You’ve embedded it in all your bones, in your entire soul. Kindaichi will understand. You will be forgiven.”

Kageyama knows that Hinata means it; after all, they’ve been in each other’s heads before.

He moves forward step by step and places the sunflower near the foot of Horizon Aurora.

 _(Thank you, Kindaichi. I’ve been upsetting you and myself by getting so caught up in the past, but I’m here to tell you that I’ve changed, that I will change._ __

_I’m sorry for everything I’ve done.)_

Kageyama turns around and walks back to the entrance, with Hinata slowly walking behind.

His head feels clear, for what seems like the first time in months, maybe even years.

.

.

.

In the middle of winter three months later, Hinata knocks on Kageyama’s door and asks if he can come in.

Kageyama opens the door and invites him in. Hinata notices how his shoulders don’t slouch anymore, how some light returns to his eyes when Hinata asks:

“Do you want to try again?”

Kageyama says yes.

Hinata smiles and for once, Kageyama feels that he deserves it.

.

.

.

Kageyama smiles now, all teeth, barely any lip and his laugh is loud and barking, a laugh that reverberates all throughout the dining hall. Hinata is pleasantly surprised at how quickly Kageyama has changed, from someone silent and brooding to something entirely new.

Hinata and Kageyama spar together now and it’s not brutal anymore; their sticks lightly tap against one another and they wrestle each other to the ground in a dizzying mix of laughter and sweat and happiness. Hinata matches Kageyama so easily that Kageyama is amazed every time; his eyes open and he sees that Hinata is a combination of hard work and optimism and happiness and all these other things that Kageyama can’t even begin to name. He doesn’t want to name them because he’s happier with Hinata being an enigma, something bigger and greater than Kageyama ever was.

It was better if Hinata was like the sun.

.

.

.

One day, after Kageyama spars with Hinata, there’s a light, fuzzy feeling in his chest and then everything just clicks.

Hinata was like hard work and sunshine.

★

Marshal Ukai comes back after six months and is astonished; Kageyama is open, Kageyama is smiling, he’s Drifting easily with Hinata and Ukai is almost reminded of a tranquil lake when he sees them practice in the simulator again. He can’t believe they’re the same two people; they were once two poles of the world, forever poised apart and now they were one and the same, parts of one another that stayed together in and out of the Drift, regardless.

CoPilots Lev and Yaku request a private meeting with Marshal Ukai and even amid their nervous apprehension, they continued to vouch for Kageyama and Hinata.

“They trained with us all the time! Kageyama and Hinata both seemed to need some alone time, so they practiced individually on their own and eventually went step by step and got to work with one another again! Yaku can vouch too!” Lev says this with such intensity that even the Marshal feels optimistic, just for a moment. Maybe this could work again.

(He decides that he can make it work. If it didn’t, it was his own fault for giving someone a second chance.)

But Marshal Ukai. Sr always believed in second chances.

.

.

.

He calls Kageyama and Hinata into his makeshift office in the corner of the Vladivostok Shatterdone, makes them two cups of coffee and tells them the good news.

“You two are getting a second chance; a girl named Yachi Hitoka back home fixed up your Jaeger to pristine condition at little to no cost to us.” He leans back in his chair and watches Hinata’s mouth drop halfway to the floor from surprise.

“Yachi? She’s the one who did all this?”

“You two better be kissing the ground she walks on. You’re going back home, though, be warned, I’m not sure the others will take it well.”

Hinata laughs a little, too full of giddy happiness and untamed light.

Kageyama allows himself the simple pleasure of a smile.

They were going home and their own Jaeger was going to be waiting for them, safe and sound.

.

.

.

They come back home and are met with shifty eyes, whispers behind their backs and insults spewed to their face. No one trusts them anymore, but it’s okay. They trust each other now. Kageyama heard hundreds of disagreements about him getting into their Jaeger again, but he didn’t care, not anymore.

He focuses on training with Hinata, on sparring with Hinata, on talking with Hinata.

It’s so completely different from Kindaichi, he thinks.

.

.

.

Oikawa confronts Kageyama in the empty hallway near their dorms.

(“You don’t deserve to be a Ranger after what happened to Kindaichi.”) Oikawa says this so cruelly, every syllable pounded with malice and hate and spite.

Kageyama says nothing.

.

.

.

He drifts perfectly with Hinata the next day in their repaired Jaeger and Oikawa can do nothing but grudgingly accept defeat. Kageyama smiles fiercely as he leaves the Conn Pod and Hinata smiles back, no teeth, all dimples.

“You’ve come so far, Kageyama,” Hinata muses, one day when they’re lying down on the mats after a sparring session, one that ended up with more laughter and giggles versus anything else.

Hinata hums something that sounds a bit like a bird song.

_(It’s all thanks to you, though.)_

★

Kageyama and Hinata get their own room together and sometimes, they’ll sleep in the same bed together, no covers, because Hinata is too full of warmth and Kageyama gets cold easily; it’s a perfect match, Kageyama muses as Hinata falls asleep next to him. **  
**

Sometimes they’ll talk for hours and hours and hours. Hinata talks the most. He talks about Natsu, all his childhood memories spent digging in the dirt with his sister and then other nights he’ll talk about the Small Giant and how maybe, maybe he was close to attaining the same respect and recognition. He talks about his time on wall construction, all the cold nights and all the death and somehow no matter what Hinata talks about, Kageyama is always caught up in Hinata’s eyes, how bright they shone in the dim light of the room, how wide they would get when he talked about something exciting.

Kageyama Tobio began to understand how to define the fuzzy feeling in his chest whenever they lay in bed together, in nothing but pleasant silence.

 

★

The kaiju alarm wakes them up in the middle of the morning and Hinata feels redemption and hope swell within himself. They could finally show everyone how far they had come, how capable they were of protecting the ones that they loved.

When they walk into the loading dock, Oikawa and Iwaizumi are there, fitted in their Drive Suits alongside Lev and Yaku. Yachi runs into the dock after them and grabs them both by the back of their suits, turns them around and hugs them tightly. Tears wet Hinata’s suit and he laughs a little, rubbing Yachi’s back comfortingly and she laughs a little between her tears.

“Come back safe, ok?” Yachi smiles through her tears and she hiccups a bit, wiping her sleeve to her face.

“We’ll be okay, won’t we, Kageyama?” Kageyama and Hinata nod together and Yachi cries even more.

Marshal Ukai clears his throat and arranges them for a last-minute meeting.

“Two Category III Kaiju have emerged from the Breach. Codenames are Helldiver and Scimitar. Helldiver is a exceptional fast swimmer whereas Scimitar is a slower, bulky beast with strong defensive capabilities. Oikawa and Iwaizumi are team leaders. Do you all understand?” Marshal Ukai looks at Kageyama questioningly and Kageyama nods; he knows that he’s not the decision maker this time around.

“Good luck out there,” the Marshal says, “I expect you all to come back home safe.”

.

.

.

It’s the very end of summer and the sky is bright and brilliant, hundreds of different colors illuminating the sky above them.

Horizon Aurora is gleaming in the early morning light as they wait near the Miracle Mile. Their radars can sense the two different Kaiju, but they are moving slowly so they take this time to check weaponry and prepare themselves, most of all Kageyama and Hinata.

Kageyama closes his eyes and Hinata whispers: “We can do this.”

Helldiver attacks out of nowhere; it erupts out of the water like the beast it is and grabs onto Lev’s and Yaku’s Jaeger. Juno Spitfire falls to its knees on the ocean seafloor and Kageyama turns to go help, something he had never done before, but Oikawa and Iwazumi’s Jaeger, Encanto Dawn, arrived there first, grappling with Helldiver’s back but the Hinata notices another dot appear on the radar and Scimitar jumps on Encanto Dawn’s back.

Oikawa yells as they descend into the water, with Scrimitar on his back and Kageyama doesn’t know what to do; there’s only one of them and two Jaegers to save, so who do they choose? He can’t do this; he was never cut out for this type of decision making. He was never meant to be a leader, Kageyama should have known this from the very beginning. Kageyama hesitates and turns three times before Hinata takes control and takes charge of the situation, in that way only Hinata can. Hinata equips their sword and plasma cannon and simultaneously shoots it with precise aim at both Scrimitar and Helldiver to distract them. Oikawa and Iwaizumi immediately grapple and get the upper hand, stabbing and piercing and roaring as the Kaiju screeches.

Lev and Yaku, on the other hand, are entwined within Helldiver’s numerous appendages. Horizon Aurora make their way over and grapple and struggle and somehow slice through most of the arms, legs, whatever they were.

“Lev, do you have any type of cannon that’s ready now?” Kageyama asks, calmly.

Oikawa is surprised when he hears Kageyama talk over the intercom; Kageyama is asking to team up together. Kageyama Tobio is no longer the egotistical and conceitful brat he was when he was with Kindaichi. Kindaichi would be impressed. Oikawa smiles a little to himself and continues to stab at Scimitar with renewed vigor.

Lev grunts and activates the cannons, letting them warm up.

“Yaku, can you distract it for a second with a flare? Hinata and I will try to come around and take a stab at it with our sword from your left side. Once the cannons heat up, shoot it and then we’ll direct its attention and take it from there. Your mainframe doesn’t seem to be looking that good, either.”

“Yeah, sure thing, Kageyama,” Yaku says, flipping another panel of switches to divert the power, “we’ll wait for you to come around.”

“Alright,” Hinata says.

Horizon Aurora makes it around and everything goes according to plan: Lev activates the cannons and the Kaiju howls, turning sideways to confront Kageyama and Hinata with their sword in hand. Kageyama bends down, looks at Hinata and smiles. Hinata laughs as Helldiver approaches.

Their fight with Helldiver is short and quick: Kageyama and Hinata are so in tune with one another that they dodge even without the other one noticing, one hands stabs while the other defends and sometimes they alternate impossibly quickly, slicing and stabbing and punching all at one time.

Horizon Aurora comes back home with some peeling paint and its first true Kaiju kill.

Kageyama and Hinata step out of their Jaeger and Yachi runs up and hugs them again.

.

.

.

Hinata calls up Natsu later that night.

_(I finally did it, Natsu.)_

He hangs up the phone with a feeling of pure accomplishment.

**★**

 

The Jaeger Graveyard isn’t eerie anymore, Kageyama thinks, not in the early morning summer daylight; the rays of light cast dazzling, shimmering reflections against one another, an intricate, never-ending maze of gold and silver and bronze. These hulking, rusting beasts looked beautiful in all their deteriorated glory, with hundreds of thousands of flowers and bouquets tucked neatly between joints, their peeling paint covered up with small messages and sometimes beautiful, curling script.

Kageyama turns around and Hinata is there, one hand wrapped around a bunch of wild sunflowers, the other hand holding a simple glass jar. Kageyama doesn’t say anything; they don’t need words anymore. They meander through the Jaegers in pleasant silence, nothing but the gentle creaking of the Jaeger joints filling their ears. Hinata begins to hum a gentle lullaby as they reach the corner of their graveyard where their own Jaeger used to be.

Hinata sets the glass jar on the ground and hands the sunflowers to Kageyama. He holds Kageyama’s hand for a second, but lets go after just a second. Kageyama’s hands feel warm and full of something that feels a little like hope.

Kageyama turns around and gently places the sunflowers in the glass jar. He presses his hands together and remembers the one time he had seen Kindaichi smile, during that one volleyball match and keeps it fresh in his mind. It no longer pains him to see Kindaichi’s face.

He turns around and walks back to the entrance.

Hinata is waiting.

The sun comes out from its bed within the clouds.

Kageyama smiles.

.

.

.

Their hands interlock, as if it’s the easiest thing in the world and it is, at least to Kageyama.

Hinata smiles back.

(Kageyama deserves the sun now.)

**Author's Note:**

> I. The Miracle Mile is the last-ditch perimeter within a few miles offshore to try and prevent Kaiju from reaching land. 
> 
> II. This particular work required a lot of planning, so if you'd like to see the thought process behind it, head on over [here](https://docs.google.com/document/d/11snU8eGIkF8vxmBMJgNpThL9MmkXDj6uoBIHpIGIypg/edit) and see, if you'd like! 
> 
> III. Here's some amazing [artwork](http://yaboybokuto.tumblr.com/post/100819642908/art-for-one-of-my-favorite-fics-called-horizon) that was made from this fic! 
> 
> IV. Once again, thanks for taking the time to read this! All the kind comments make this all worthwhile!


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